Breaking Bad Habits
by Aireessa
Summary: AU. Emma can't seem to break old and not-so-healthy habits. Yet another Sunday morning she wakes up in someone else's bed, just to quickly and quietly leave, avoiding any conversation and the awkwardness that follows. But this time, she makes a big mistake.
1. Chapter 1

**Say hello to my first ever fanfiction! I plan on updating with a new chapter at least once every week, and I'd be honored if you wanted to follow us (me, Emma and Killian) on the journey ahead.**

**Rated M for language, adult themes and upcoming steamy stuff. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, the characters presented in this story.**

* * *

I didn't recognize the mattress my back was resting upon, nor was the pillow underneath of my head familiar to me since before. I was lying comfortably, no doubt about that, but this wasn't my own bed. And I wasn't in my own bedroom.

The last thing I remembered from the previous night was leaving the nightclub alone, a few hours before closing time. Ruby and Mary Margaret chose to stay a bit longer, but I was heading home.

I remembered having two glasses of white wine, a beer - perhaps two, a few shots of Tequila - I blame everything on Tequila, one way too sweet and artificially fruity drink… I also remembered how us girls were elbowing our way through the dance floor, crowded with hot and sweaty bodies moving like one to the beat.

I opened my eyes, painfully slow, to allow them to adjust to the bright light of the morning that was finding its way through the uncovered window to my left. It took a good few seconds before I was able to make any sense out of the situation.

There was a man, with dark tousled hair and a short stubble, sleeping peacefully to my right, and the missing pieces from last night's puzzle fell into place.

_Shit._ I had done it again...

My plan was never to go _home_, but I had used that very sentence as an excuse to ditch my friends. If I had told them I left our girls night out just to have fun between the sheets with some random, nameless guy I had known for no longer than an hour, they would've wrestled me down and tied my wrists together if needed to keep me in place.

I let out a long, drawn-out sigh as I prepared my body for swift and quiet movement. I did under no circumstances want to wake the man up. In fact, the now _almost_ sober version of myself never wanted to be there, in his bed, in the first place.

My behavior was destructive, I was well aware of that. My therapist had, on several occasions, explained to me that this, the way too frequent, random one night stands, was all the love I allowed myself. I was afraid of love and commitment, but I was at the same time also afraid of being alone. Not a great combination.

I knew my therapist was correct in his assumptions. I also knew why I had turned out to behave like this. I did not want to blame everything on my childhood, but there was no other reasonable explanation behind my way of acting.

Yesterday's clothing was scattered across the parquet floor. I slid the little black dress over my blond curls and helped the fabric over my hips. The dress reached just above my knees, exposing most of my now naked legs. My leather jacket was mindlessly thrown on a loveseat by the opposite wall of the bed. At least my keys were still in its pocket.

I found my stockings on top of a pair of men's jeans, but did not waste any time putting them on. All my instincts told me I had to leave as soon as humanly possible.

_Now, where's my heels?_ I thought to myself as I found them, well hidden in a dusty corner. I assumed the home's owner, the man which I had been too drunk - or too ignorant - to remember the name of, disliked cleaning just as much as I did.

I threw the man with the dark hair and short stubble a last glance. Happy to not have accidentally woke him up, I carefully unlocked the front door and snuck out of the apartment.

A thirty minute walk of shame later and I was home. It smelled of blooming orchid as I stepped inside my tiny hallway; the orchid was the only plant I had managed to keep alive for longer than two weeks. It reminded me of my housewarming party a year earlier. Actually, it hadn't been much of a party at all - just myself, Ruby and Mary Margaret sharing a bottle of wine, or three, while watching Sopranos on the television. Ruby and Mary Margaret also happened to be my only real friends. If I wasn't good at making them, keeping them was even harder.

I barely managed to park myself in my small, indigo IKEA couch before the landline rang. _Odd,_ was the first thought that crossed my mind. The only people ever calling me on the landline was telemarketers or charity organizations begging for my hard-earned money, but on a Sunday morning?

I gave the telephone a long, suspicious stare before deciding to ignore it. If someone wanted to share something of importance with me, they'd try reaching me on my cell.

With my head more or less comfortably resting on one of the armrests, and my feet on the other, I fell asleep.

* * *

"Emma, you home?!" Someone was banging hard and eagerly on the door.

If the banging hadn't been accompanied by a high pitched, loud voice, I would've assumed it was my painfully pulsating head beeing me for an aspirin. I knew that voice, though.

"Just a sec!" My mouth was as dry as dust and my dress was oozing of both men's and women's perfume, with a tiny hint of liquor. I quickly stepped out of it and surrounded my half-naked body with a white, all-cotton bathrobe. I gathered my long, blond hair in a bun on the top of my head before opening the door.

"Hell Emma, I've been trying to reach you all day." Mary Margaret's brow was furrowed - she wasn't happy with me.

"Sorry," I said guiltily in an attempt to calm her down.

"I've been worried like mad! You promised you'd text me when you got home last night," she continued her rant.

"Yeah, I know, my bad. But hey, I'm alive and all is well," I smiled at her.

"Learn to answer your phone, please." She returned my smile, although with a sigh.

"I must've forgotten to turn on the sound. I swear I haven't heard it ring," I explained.

"Sure, whatever." She'd never liked excuses. "You coming for brunch or what?"

I had completely forgotten about our scheduled brunch, which made me feel like a douche. I hated myself for previous night's irresponsible behavior - the reason behind why I had been sleeping until noon in the first place. What made me feel even worse was, I'd been a no-show at the weekly Sunday brunch one too many times already. I couldn't, and wouldn't, let my friends down again.

"Give me ten," I responded as I let Mary Margaret inside and served her a glass of orange juice while I made myself ready.

Casually dressed in blue skinny jeans, a white tee and a black leather jacket, I scanned my apartment for my purse, which was nowhere to be found. A series of curse words escaped my mouth as I'd kept Mary Margaret waiting for more than ten minutes already, and not finding my purse meant not finding my wallet, which in return meant no brunch for me. Unless I wanted to be one of those people who happily let others pay for them. I had never been one of those people, and neither did I intend to become one of them.

"Mary Margaret, I'm sorry. I can't seem to find my purse," I said, shrugging.

She just rolled her eyes at me, as if she was thinking 'typically you, Emma,' before she opened her mouth, lips covered in a crimson lipstick. "You spent the night at someone else's_,_ didn't you?"

_Damn._ She knew me all too well, and I didn't want to lie to her. Not again.

"Yes, I did," I sighed. _And forgot my purse along with my wallet and my phone as I was in a hurry to leave before he woke up, to avoid awkward small-talk and goobye's_, I added to my sentence inside of my head_._

"Pull yourself together. Seriously."

She sounded like some kind of mother. Not that I knew what mothers sounded like, I had never had one myself, but I assumed they sounded exactly like Mary Margaret did in that moment.

"Well, I'm leaving. Ruby's probably already at the café, can't have her wait forever. Pay us a visit if you're able to."

I watched as she left through the door, obviously disappointed in me. I believed it was nothing compared to the disappointment I felt toward myself.

* * *

The simple solution to my problem would've been to call my cell, hope there'd be any battery left in it, and pray that the guy would answer. Yes, that sounded like a plan indeed, but first I would have to gather the mental strength required to swallow my pride. I'd be embarrassed, that I was certain of, but it felt a lot easier than to cancel all my cards and deactivate my phone.

Just as I was about to pick up the handset and dial the number of my cell, the noise of the landline ringing made me jump high. The caller ID displayed a familiar sequence of numbers. I let a few signals pass before I decided not to ignore it, as I had done earlier that day.

"Is this Emma Swan?" The man's accent told me he wasn't originally from the states, but rather from Europe.

"Yes, this is her?" I made it sound like I had no clue what the call was about, when I in fact knew exactly who was on the other side of the line, and also why.

"This is Killian Jones. We met last night." Definitely Europe; Ireland to be precise.

"Oh, right. Hi, Killian." _So that's his name._ I sounded just as nervous as I felt.

"I've been trying to reach you all day. Started to believe the contact called 'Home' in your phone wasn't the correct number after all. So, how do you want to do this?"

_How do you want to do this?_ He made it sound like there was some business deal to seal. I felt so indescribably cheap, but had no one else but myself to blame those feelings on.

"Emma, you still there?"

"Yeah, sorry. Give me an address and I'll come pick my stuff up." I'd been too busy escaping to pay any closer notice to my surroundings that morning. I knew in what area of town he lived, but I wasn't completely sure which building, nor floor level.

He let out an amused chuckle before giving me the address. I thanked him but hung up without any goodbye's. Embarrassment got the better of me.

* * *

To my surprise, the address Killian had given me didn't lead to an apartment building like I had assumed, but rather to a café. Not just any café either, but the very café where I was supposed to meet my friends for brunch.

"Well, this is just perfect," I muttered to myself before Killian caught my attention, confidently walking toward me.

He was wearing a beige cable knit sweater along with a pair of black jeans that hugged his hips perfectly; his stubble still intact, but his hair no longer as unruly as it had been that morning. He was one handsome man, no doubt about that. Even my bad judgment had good taste. My cheeks blushed when his pale blue eyes met mine.

"Care to join me for a coffee?"

"Thanks, but I gotta be somewhere." An overused excuse if any, but in all honesty, I just wanted to receive my stuff and head home. _And die from embarrassment._

He handed me my brown leather purse, our hands touching for a brief second. He felt warm as a contrast to the chilly autumn breeze surrounding us.

"Alright, then. I put your stockings in there, too." He gave me a genuine smile, showing off his white teeth.

I was just about to leave, when I could hear Ruby's shouting.

"Emma, you made it!" She was waving exaggeratedly, signaling me to join them.

_Even more perfect._

Killian raised one eyebrow and smirked. "Seems like _here_ is where you gotta be, after all." He gesticulated with his arms as he pronounced the word "here."

"I guess," I responded as I sent Ruby and Mary Margaret the widest of fake smiles, not moving one inch from where I was stood on the pavement.

My hesitance left the girls with a puzzled expression on their faces. Ruby rose from her cushioned rattan chair and walked toward me. She realized I was accompanied by someone a second too late.

Being her usual overly confident self, she offered him her hand. "Ruby. And you must be… ?"

"Killian," he said as he shook her hand firmly and politely.

She gave him a curious look. "And you two know each other -?"

"We don't," I interrupted her, before Killian had any chance to respond. "Killian here is interested in buying my car."

"I didn't know you were selling your car. You should've told me and I would've bought it, my own broke down the other day," Ruby said.

My yellow Beetle nowhere around to be seen, and with the previously missing purse in my hands, she knew I was lying. However, she seemed to pick up on my feelings of discomfort and played along.

"Anyway, why don't you join us, Killian?" _So much for playing along._ I glared at her.

"I'd be honored to," he winked at me. _He fucking winked at me._ Who exactly did he think he was?

Ruby and I joined Mary Margaret by the small glass table. Killian borrowed a chair from the table next to ours and squeezed it in right next to where I was seated. I recognized his scent from the way my black dress had smelled that morning.

I let my eyes rest upon Killian a little longer than intended as he introduced himself to Mary Margaret. Something he said made her laugh, but I didn't pick up on the conversation. I was busy dealing with my own thoughts.

The situation was nothing but awkward and surreal. He should've stayed nameless; the memory of his face nothing but a reminder of my poor judgment, but instead he was having Sunday brunch with me and my closest friends. All I had wanted was to get my purse back.

I left the table, without as much as one word, to go order something to chew on. I wasn't exactly hungry, but knew I'd get rid of my hangover quicker with the help of some food, preferably something salty.

Before I knew it, Killian appeared behind me in the line.

"What do you want, Killian?" I sighed, without turning to face him.

"I wanted you to join me for coffee." He sounded cheerful.

"Well, seems like your wish came true. Happy?"

"Am indeed," he chuckled.

"You do this a lot?" I hissed.

"Do what?"

"Infiltrate other people's brunches?"

"There's a first for everything, miss Swan. Are you always this jolly?"

"Listen, Jones." I turned to face him, his eyes hypnotically blue. "Wipe that silly grin off of your face. Your charms won't work on me. Yesterday, perhaps, but not today. You, us… nothing but a onetime thing. All I did was using your body. Do I make myself clear?" My words came out a bit more harsh than intended.

He bit down on his lower lip as he tried to find the suitable words to respond with.

"Emma, I'm sorry if my presence makes you feel uncomfortable. I'm not sure what you believe happened last night, but no one _used_ my body." He was looking confused, but it was nothing compared to how I felt.

"So you're saying…"

"I'm saying nothing happened. You were drunk and we shared a cab. I invited you in to make sure no one would take advantage of you, considering the state you were in. You fell asleep on my couch, I carried you to the bed. Nothing more, nothing less."

"But my clothes were scattered all across the floor… ?" It didn't make any sense. Sure, I had been drunk, but drunk enough to fall asleep on someone's couch, just like that?

"You must've woken up during the night and removed them yourself, 'cause I sure as hell didn't. You really think I would lay a finger more than necessary on someone unable to even stand on their own two feet?" He both looked and sounded offended by my indirect accusations.

A part of me wanted to apologize for my assumptions, but I was being too proud and too stubborn. I didn't know what to say, or think for that matter. A quiet "thanks" escaped my lips as I watched Killian's back as he left the café without as much as looking at me.

"Excuse me, miss. Are you going to order?" The barista behind the counter had grown impatient.

"Yeah, right, sorry. I'll take the largest coffee you've got, black. Actually, make it two."

* * *

**Please share your thoughts with me by leaving a review, let's get a conversation going! :)**

**Apologizes if my language ain't perfect, English is my third language.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm overwhelmed by the response on Chapter 1, guys. Thank you all so, so much for all of your follows, favorites and reviews. It's really motivating, and I want to give you the absolutely best I possibly can.**

**...and that's why I'm bringing you Chapter 2 a lot sooner than I had planned on doing, as a gift from me to you. I hope you'll find this chapter as intriguing as I do, things are about to get very interesting.**

* * *

Running in high heels with one large, hot coffee in each hand had been both an easier and a much better idea inside of my head than it turned out to be in practice. I was acutely aware that one misplaced step would be enough to have to pay a visit to the hospital, with first-degree burns covering greater parts of my body. I did not intend on spending my Sunday afternoon at the emergency, yet I kept running.

Something in my gut told me Killian wasn't like the rest of the men I had met, and my gut was usually a reliable source when it came to these kind of things. The problem was rather how I repeatedly chose to ignore its warnings. Other men had shamelessly been objectifying me, and couldn't care less about what condition I might or might not have been in when running their hands all over my body. I had just assumed, from experience, that they were all wired the same way. Having, to some extent, been proven differently was… refreshing, to put it simply.

Perhaps I was crazy for doing this, but I wanted to give Killian an honest and genuine apologize. The barely audible whisper of a 'thank you' at the café had left much to wish for, and what better way to say "I'm sorry" than to share that god damn coffee he'd been pestering me about. I just hoped he was still up for it.

I could distinguish something black and beige moving through the crowd about a hundred feet in front of me. As I closed in more and more, I slowed down on the running and started walking with long, determined strides, somewhat catching my breath in the process.

"Hey Killian! Killian, wait up!" I shouted after him.

He paused his legs and turned in my direction with a quizzical expression on his face. "Miss Swan?"

"You forgot your coffee," I smiled as innocently as I possibly could.

"As far as I recall, I never ordered any coffee," he raised his dark eyebrows, seemingly amused by my sprinting.

"Well, seems you got one anyway."

"Miss Swan, you're leaving me speechless." I was still short of breath, which he was quick on noticing. "Sit down, please," he ordered as he took both coffees out of my hands and approached a nearby bench covered in white, lazily drawn graffiti. He gracefully parked himself on the bench's wooden material, the white paint fading, it posed no threat to his black jeans.

I gladly followed his example, my feet sore from the running-in-high-shoes syndrome.

A short moment of complete silence followed, a moment that felt like an eternity. My eyes were looking everywhere but at Killian Jones. Stressed people were rushing by on the pavement, most of them so full of themselves they couldn't care less about who they bumped with their elbows. A woman, covered in animal furs and with seemingly expensive shoes - that brand with the red soles which I never managed to pronounce correctly - stepped in a fresh pile of dog poop. I laughed evilly inside of my head. _Karma._

"You wanted to tell me something?" Killian's accent surprised me every time he opened his mouth. I had always had a soft spot for foreign accents, but this was something else. His voice was mesmerizing.

"Umm, yeah… Well…" I struggled to find a suitable opening.

"I'm all ears, lass."

"I'm sorry." There. I'd said it. Now the rest would be up to him.

"For?" I had a hard time figuring out whether he was still upset, or whether he just tried to draw the words out of me.

I sighed. "I'm sorry for assuming the worst, and I'm sorry for my poor choice of words."

"And you thought this coffee would make up for it, didn't you?" In the corner of my eye I could see him smirk. Did he _enjoy_ watching me suffer?

"The coffee isn't an apology. It's a thank you, for taking me in last night, and, you know… letting me _sleep_."

"You're very welcome." He took a large sip from the now cooling coffee. "You always have your coffee black?" He asked.

"I'm letting my body decide. If there's a headache present, then the blacker the better," I responded, finally able to look him in the eyes without feeling any guilt or embarrassment.

"I take it it's yesterday's alcohol is making sure you're in pain today." It was more of a statement than a question, but I nodded as a response anyway.

A fiery orange leaf swirled down and landed on my thigh. I took a deep breath and truly enjoyed the chilliness the cold air brought through my airways and down my lungs. Autumn had always been my favorite season; I liked being able to put decent-looking clothes on without turning into a wandering puddle of sweat. The bright colors of the trees cheered me up and reminded me that things, and people, may change for the better.

"Well, miss Swan," Killian threw a glance at his silvery wristwatch. "While I appreciate your thoughtful gesture and words, I'm afraid I'm the one who has to be someplace else."

"Oh, of course_."_ Silly me, believing this moment would last any longer. Not that I wanted it to, definitely not. I'd apologized, and that was all I had wanted.

We rose simultaneously, and the awkwardness of the situation made itself reminded as neither of us seemed to be able to figure out an appropriate way of saying goodbye. _We are as good as strangers after all_, I thought to myself as I offered him my right hand. He grabbed on to it firmly and gave me two friendly pats on my shoulder with his free hand.

"Until we meet again, Emma Swan," he added while slowly backing away from me.

I was drowning in his features. _Until we meet again, Killian Jones._ A scenario that was highly unlikely, I had to remind myself.

* * *

"So, did he buy it?" Mary Margaret asked as soon as I rejoined them at the café.

"What?" I looked at her with big, uncomprehending eyes.

"The car of course, silly," she teased me while playing with a strand of her pixie cut, brown hair.

"Oh, right. He thought I asked a little too much for it," I replied, aware that we both knew he never intended to buy any car.

"You slept with him, didn't you?" Ruby was probably the most straight-forward person I'd ever known. She always spoke her mind without thinking twice. "I could sense the electricity the second I saw you two together."

"As a matter of fact, I never slept with him." My confident tone seemed to assure her I was telling the truth.

Mary Margaret, however, wasn't as convinced. "But you forgot your purse at his place on an early Sunday morning?"

"To make a long story short; Yes, I slept in his bed, but I didn't sleep _with_ him," I explained.

"Ooh, are we witnessing Emma Swan being _serious_ with a guy for once?" They were both stating their interest in the matter by leaning closer toward me, four elbows on the glass surface of the table. I felt like I was being interrogated.

"It's nothing like that, really. I promise," I responded, still fairly certain I'd never see Killian again. I had no reason to do so, anyway.

"So, tell us about your new job, Ruby. Is it any better than your old one?" I made an obvious attempt at changing the subject.

She rolled her green, almost toxic, eyes at me, letting me know she was well aware of my avoidance tactics. "If you ignore the fact that my wallet has been put on a sudden and not so appreciated diet; yes. At least my new boss isn't a complete douche."

Ruby began telling stories about her new co-workers and their strange, more or less annoying, habits, but I was only listening with one half of my brain. The other half was occupied by something - someone - far more interesting. I imagined what it would be like to ruffle his hair, feel his biceps, rest my head upon his chest, listen to his voice all night long.

_What's the matter with you, Emma? _I quickly shook any and all thoughts of the more impure nature out of my head.

* * *

"Do you feel like you are making any progress with yourself, miss Swan?"

I was back in _that_ green leather chair, the very same chair I had spent countless of hours in thus far.

I didn't exactly enjoy our sessions, but assumed they were for the best, _my best_, and my therapist was highly professional. We had over the course of soon-to-be a year developed a mutual respect for each other.

Dr. Archibald Hopper had been using that very same blue pen since the first time I went to see him. A favorite of his, I supposed. Perhaps changing stuff around, even small details like what pen he's using, would upset other clients of his.

"If falling asleep from being too drunk, which effectively prevented any and all sexual relations with a complete stranger counts as progress, then yes," I replied with sarcasm.

He eyed me, glasses low on the bridge of his nose.

"And how many of these, which you choose to call 'sexual relations', have you had since our last session?"

I had to think that question through before responding. Our last session had been taking place a little more than three weeks ago, and since Killian didn't really count…

"One," I replied in a neutral tone. It wasn't too bad of a bad number after all, although Doctor Hopper would've preferred if I'd answered 'none'.

"What emotions did you experience before, during and after this encounter?" He asked, carefully taking notes of my every word.

A tough but expected question. I knew how he _wanted_ me to answer - happy; happy; and happy - but that answer would be nowhere near the truth.

I could, in theory, be my own therapist by now. I was well aware of the do's and do not's. I enjoyed reading and the peace it brought me, and I could easily have ploughed through all the books in the room's overstuffed bookshelf in a matter of weeks.

I nervously tapped my fingers against the mossy-colored armrest. Studying my own hand reminded me I really needed to fix my nails.

"Beforehand, I guess I felt excited. Butterflies, you know, almost a high." I paused to have enough time to be honest with myself.

"Please continue," he nodded, patient as always.

"During the act… Numbness, I didn't feel anything at all. I think. And after, the regular emptiness and shame. Angst. Disgust. Hate."

"Was the hate you experienced directed toward the man which you had just been intimate with, or toward yourself?"

The answer was ridiculously simple. "Myself."

"You see why it's important to break these patterns of yours, don't you Emma?" Dr. Hopper rarely called me by my first name, but anytime he did, I reacted with silent surprise.

"I've been aware of its importance since I first requested to see you," I sighed.

"You know what the next step is for you," his kind, blue eyes met mine.

"Impulse control," I responded wistfully. It had been my next step for about eight months.

I didn't seem to be making as much progress as I had imagined previously to the meeting.

* * *

Tuesday morning and reality was banging on my door. I had been off work since Friday, and the past weekend had definitely been interesting… which was more than I could say about the dreadful pile of paperwork on the wooden desk in front of me.

I slowly spun my chair around a couple of times. Procrastination was one thing I was good at, even though I was well aware that doing so would lead to nothing but me doing overtime hours at the office.

Not that it I minded, it didn't matter anyway. All I had planned for the evening was a date with my longtime lovers better known as Chinese takeaway and TiVo. Weekday boredom was another suitable phrase for the phenomenon.

"Emma, you done with the stuff I asked you to sort out anytime soon?"

"Give me another fifteen minutes and it'll be all finished, Jefferson," I replied.

Jefferson was the head of the department, and he had recently promoted me to his full-time assistant. I wasn't completely sure as to why, there were other highly competent - perhaps even more so than me - people who had been working at the company for way longer than I had. I guess Jefferson also took potential into calculation when making these kinds of decisions.

My more jealous, and less discrete about it, co-workers repeatedly told me Jefferson had a thing for blondes, a thought I preferred to ignore as soon as it found its way inside my head.

"Good. I've got a client here I can't keep waiting for much longer. Hurry up, will you please?"

I rarely got to meet the clients personally, which made it even more exciting when I eventually got to do so. Listening to fascinating book ideas and author biographies was a hundred times more interesting than spending hours filing unfinished drafts and manuscripts someone else had carefully been going through for decline or approval.

Twenty minutes later, I quietly entered Jefferson's generously sized, all-white office with pen and paper ready in my hands. The meeting with the client, an older woman with gracefully graying hair, had started before I had gotten there, but by listening in on the tone of the conversation, I could tell I hadn't missed much thus far.

"So, Emily, please tell us a bit more about your current project. Start from the beginning if you will, Emma here hasn't heard anything of it as of yet." Jefferson smiled at me.

He was a good boss after all, and I refused to believe he would hire or promote someone based on their physical appearance. That coming from me said a lot about him, as I usually tended to believe the worst in people.

"As you already know, Mr. Jefferson, it's a biography about my son's rise and fall in the sport of sailing. He became the World Champion at the age of 19, younger than anyone to ever achieve that title."

"And your son is aware of your intention to publish this story?" He asked her.

"Yes, he is indeed aware of it." She nodded as she uttered the sentence, as to further reassure us of her words.

"And what makes this story unique from every other successful-person-loses-everything biographies out there?" I blurted, quickly realizing my mistake.

Jefferson cleared his through in disapproval. "I'm sorry Emily, Emma's -"

"It's okay. She's though, I like it," Emily interrupted him with a smile reaching all the way to her eyes. "What makes this story unique, is how he continued his trail of success even after he'd lost one of his hands in a tragic car accident. He gained another handful of titles while wearing a prosthetic in place of his left hand, which inspired young people with prosthetics all over the world to follow in his footsteps and believe in themselves… To do something _more_ with their lives."

"And his fall?" Jefferson asked her. I could distinguish curiosity in his voice, something he usually was able to hide like the expert he was.

"He lost more than his hand in that car accident; his fiancé died after more than 18 months in the ICU. My son had his hopes high as she actually _did_ survive the crash itself, but when she'd finally taken her last breaths, his world fell apart. You could call it a severe depression, I assume." Emily's eyes had started to tear, and she excused herself as she buried her face in her hands.

_Interesting._ Was it good enough of a story to publish and sell in large quantities? I wasn't sure. But it was a moving and fascinating one, I couldn't take that from Emily, or her son for that matter. Then again, I'd never cared much for sports, let alone sailing. _Who sails anyway_, I though, thankfully keeping it to myself this time.

The meeting then continued as they usually did. Jefferson believed in Emily's ideas, and because she was a previously published author, her credibility was higher than that of someone unpublished. Jefferson and Emily were able to seal a mutually beneficial deal fairly quickly.

As I was finally about to leave the office for the evening, I realized I had forgotten to take copies of, and file, the papers signed at the meeting with Emily earlier that day. I glared at the papers, as though my stare would automatically have them move to the correct cabinet. Very unsurprising, they didn't move an inch.

I sighed, threw my brown purse on the floor next to my desk, and began going through the papers, one by one. I had done this so many times by now, I felt like a humanoid robot designed for this purpose only.

All the dates were correct, with all signatures in the correct places, and with a large placeholder sum noted down, the numbers just like Jefferson and Emily had agreed upon. But there was something else that caught my interest.

**Author:** Emily Jones

**Author's date of birth: **June 21, 1958

**Origin of Author:** Ireland

My stomach churned as I read the following line.

**Suggested title of work:** _Killian Jones - The Rise and Fall of a Champion_

* * *

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**I'm once again apologizing if you've spotted any linguistic/grammatical errors. ****English isn't my mother tongue.**


	3. Chapter 3

**!IMPORTANT!**

**First of all, I would like to announce that quite a few changes (most notably the names of the characters) have been made to chapters 1 and 2, for further, awesome OUAT:ification. While the changes don't affect the plot, I recommend you re-read the first chapters if you've read them prior to August 19, to avoid any confusion.**

**And once again, I'd like to thank all of you for your feedback. Writing is so much more fun in direct communication with the readers.**

**To respond to a comment made by _Guest_:**

**The year 1958 isn't Killian's date of birth, but the "Author's Date of Birth" (Emily, Killian's mother, is the author). This makes Emily 56 years old, and Killian is probably 25-35 years younger than his mother. A more precise age might be given out later.**

**I hope you will all enjoy Chapter 3!**

* * *

I had a hard time relaxing my mind that evening. My lovers weren't as attractive as they usually were; the Chinese was tasteless and any attempt at chewing made me feel sick to my stomach, and TiVo had completely forgotten what the word 'cooperate' means. Instead of declaring war against the machines, I went to bed - a lot earlier than usual - just to find myself in a restless condition. I was trapped somewhere in between the conscious and the unconscious. Every time I turned, the Sandman tauntingly took one step further away from me. I could see him, but I wasn't able hold on to him longer than a few minutes at a time.

My mind was spinning in endless circles. What was I supposed to do with this, to me, new information about Killian? It was after all confidential until the story hit the shelves, which it wouldn't do within the next twelve or so months. What if I against all odds ran into him on the streets, should I pretend like nothing had happened, like I knew nothing at all? Unless I wanted to get fired from my job, that's what I _had_ to do. I was good at faking it when needing to, but it felt different this time around, like my poker face wouldn't care to pay me the slightest of visits.

It all had reminded me that people aren't always what they seem, something that I had experienced one too many times before. Some books kept their secrets well-hidden, even though one believed they'd read its every page, down to every single one of its letters. I was good at reading books, and I was good at reading people. This time I had failed. Or had I really? I had known Killian was different, and I had known there was something mysterious about him I couldn't quite pinpoint.

I wasn't angry with him, not even the slightest. Even if he'd wanted to share his life story with me - though why would he - when would he'd been able to do so? I was rather angry with myself, for having been ignorant, selfish and self-absorbed. But how could I possibly have known? And why did I care so much about what I had found out earlier that day, anyway?

I fell into an anxious sleep - a lot later than usual - but only after having persuaded myself into believing Emily wasn't the mother of that very Killian I had been spending greater parts of my Sunday with.

* * *

"Any plans for the evening, miss Swan?" Jefferson asked curiously.

I had requested to get off work an hour earlier than usual that Friday, to help Mary Margaret with some arrangements.

"I promised a friend of mine to assist her in the preparations for this charity event she's been planning for ages," I responded, absolutely certain Jefferson would agree to my request.

I rarely asked him for anything, and I had barely been home sick one day since I began working at the office a few years earlier.

"A charity event you say. It doesn't happen to be the auction collecting money for children with cancer, now does it?"

"That's correct. You know about it?" I asked, a polite smile on my lips.

"I've personally been helping out with its funding." He let out an amused chuckle. "You're free to leave when you must, Emma. I guess I'll see you tonight."

Weirdly enough, I didn't use to see my colleagues, let alone my boss, outside of working hours. My personal and professional lives were two completely different elements I did not in any want to mix with each other. Office-Emma was correct, organized and always on time, while private-Emma was… quite a mess. I wanted to keep both versions of myself separated as much as I possibly could.

Two hours after lunch and I was ready to head off for the day. I clenched my hand and placed three careful knocks on the teak wooden door, before I opened it and entered Jefferson's office. He never scheduled any meetings during Friday afternoons, so I wasn't worried I would interrupt something.

"Just letting you know I'm leaving for the weekend," I said.

For a second, he was looking at me with confusion, like he'd forgotten his promise to let me leave earlier.

"Charity duty's calling," I reminded him.

"Oh, right. Of course. Good luck and see you later." He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, but his words made me uncomfortable in some unexplainable way.

I closed the door behind me without responding with more than a nod.

* * *

"Careful with that!" Mary Margaret exclaimed in a high-pitched voice as Ruby picked up a brown cardboard box. "It contains a complete tea set of 19th century hand painted china."

"Geez, relax," Ruby retorted. "It's not like I'm usually reckless, you know."

They eyed each other for a brief second before I added, "Ruby's right. You're acting way too tense, Mary Margaret."

"You're right, I'm sorry. It's just… I've been working so hard for this, and now it's finally happening. I can't thank you guys enough for helping me out," she responded, eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Mary Margaret had been a busy bee for sure. Without overestimating, there were a hundred of objects collected for tonight's auction, now in need of being transferred from the building's lobby all the way up to its top floor. Forty floors, with only two elevators at our disposal.

I wasn't sure whether or not it was doable in the approximately one hour we had until the building would start to crowd up with rich people and their heavy wallets. At least some of their money would end up where they were needed tonight, thanks to Mary Margaret.

The elevators filled up at a surprisingly high pace. When we couldn't possibly stuff anything more in them, Ruby and Mary Margaret entered their respective elevators and pressed the buttons labeled '40' almost simultaneously.

"See you up top guys!" I started to ascend the carpeted marble stairs with one medium sized painting in each hand, a decision I started to regret around the fifteenth floor. I was far from unfit, but began to realize I had overestimated my own capabilities.

My mouth tasted of blood when I finally reached the fortieth floor. I folded myself double from the pain in my side, before joining the girls with moving the stuff from the elevators and to the grand hall where the auction would take place.

We made it just on time before the first guests arrived.

The lighting from the chandeliers was warm and cozy, and threw soft shadows across the hall. About two hundred chairs covered in ivory satin gave the event an additionally luxurious touch. Mary Margaret was busy adjusting her microphone, testing its sound every ten or so seconds, until she was content with its volume. I managed to get myself and Ruby seats at the front row. Not that I had planned on buying anything - my budget wouldn't exactly approve - but I knew having us within sight would help calm Mary Margaret's nerves.

Mary Margaret was showcasing the items, one by one, from the stage in front of us. If available she also shared the item's background story before accepting any bids. She didn't seem uncomfortable at all standing in front of that many people. The spotlight turned her into a different person, confident and self-assured. She was the star of the evening and I couldn't possibly be any more proud of my friend.

One of the paintings I had previously been carrying up the buildings forty floors was an original by a to me unknown artist, and it had been painted solely for the purpose of the auction. The artist had chosen to call his work 'Simple Sardine' which made absolutely no sense. Its lines was anything but simple, and there were no fish to be seen in the explosion of different nuances of green and blue, at least not by the untrained eye. I did however experience some kind of attraction toward its messy abstractness.

"Do we have an offer for this exquisite piece of art?" Mary Margaret paused to have a sip of water. "Three hundred for this original painting?"

I raised my hand.

Mary Margaret gave me a surprised look from the stage, and Ruby turned toward me with her eyebrows raised high. I gave them a reassuring nod.

Three hundred was within my budget, and I convinced myself the painting would make a nice addition to my apartment. I'd hang it on the currently empty, white wall next to my dining table. A table which purpose had been eradicated by me always having my meals in front of the television.

"We have three hundred by the blond lady at the front row. Going once, going twice, -"

"Three fifty," a man's voice a few rows behind me exclaimed.

_Damn it._

"Four hundred," I once again raised my hand. It wasn't that I badly wanted the painting, but I hated losing more than I hated anything else. I promised myself I wouldn't go any higher than five hundred. Or rather, I promised my wallet.

"Five hundred," the man's voice added.

I admitted myself defeated and watched the rest of the auction quietly and without placing another bid, out of pure stubbornness.

As the event started to come to its conclusion, people were emerging from the crowd of chairs to collect their items. Myself and Ruby helped out Mary Margaret with collecting money and printing receipts. From the corner of my eye, I could see how Mary Margaret handed over the painting, _my painting_, to a familiar looking man.

"So, you're the one who outbid me," I approached him, my arms crossed over my chest.

"You must be the blond lady at the front row," Jefferson smirked at me, head tilted. "I didn't know you were interested in art, Emma Swan."

"I'm not. Just thought I'd contribute to the charity," I added, not wanting to let my disappointment shine through. I couldn't help but stare at the painting in Jefferson's right hand. It wouldn't have looked nice by my dining table; it would've looked fucking perfect.

"I just might be convinced selling it to you… _if_ you share a bottle of wine with me."

_Holy fuck._ Was Jefferson asking me on a date?

"I don't date my co-workers," I stated, absolutely certain he'd understand and not push the subject any further.

"Good thing I'm not your co-worker then." He gave me a smile that would've convinced me if it wasn't for the fact that Jefferson was my boss.

"I don't date my bosses either," I added, avoiding any and all eye contact out of discomfort.

"Consider it a business meeting. Just one glass, Emma. Please?"

Did my own boss just beg me?

"Fine. One glass. And you'll sell me the painting for no more than five hundred." I guess I wanted it simply because I couldn't have it.

"You're a tough negotiator, Emma. I believe we have ourselves a deal."

* * *

"White or red?" Jefferson asked as we seated ourselves by the bar in the highly sophisticated restaurant, still on the fortieth floor.

"White, please." I associated red wine with painful migraines.

All I could think about as he helped me get out of my jacket was Doctor Hopper and my_ next step_. Controlling my impulses was an absolute must this time around.

In my head, it didn't matter if I slept with a random guy every now and then, as long as they were just that; random. Jefferson wasn't just a random guy, and I'd be absolutely mortified coming back to work on Monday morning if I would let anything whatsoever happen between us. I couldn't, and I wouldn't.

_Perhaps this isn't too bad a practice after all_, a thought I tried to strengthen myself with. Doctor Hopper would've been pleased to hear all about it, _if_ I managed to control myself.

"So… Tell me something about yourself, Emma. We've been working alongside each other for quite some time now, and yet I barely know you," he said, his body leaning toward me, legs crossed and arms resting on the bar desk's polished wooden surface.

The fact that Jefferson was a young, handsome and successful man didn't make resisting him any easier.

"Well, what do you want to know?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't respond with a much too personal question.

"Where do you see yourself in, let's say, five years?"

I approached the question like I would've done on a job interview; I had to keep my defenses up.

"I hope for a prominent position at the office… Editor, perhaps."

"Is that so." He eyed me carefully. "You're quite secretive."

"I guess that depends on with whom I'm speaking," I responded, a half-hearted smile on my lips.

"How come you're still single? A good-looking young woman like yourself should have no problem finding that special someone. No guys good enough for you?"

"I don't think that's any off your business," I reminded him politely, trying my best to keep up that wall between us. If it fell for as much as a second, I'd be royally screwed.

"I take that as a yes, then," he smiled.

"Why the sudden interest anyway?" I countered as I took three large sips of the chardonnay he'd ordered for me. In this pace, my glass would be empty in no time, and I'd be heading home with my for some reason highly desired painting.

"It isn't very sudden at all, Emma. It's just damn hard to catch your interest, so to speak."

I felt how my cheeks started to heat.

"You knew I was the one placing a bid on that painting, didn't you? You outbidding me was you planning for this scenario all along!"

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," he laughed, acting all innocent.

I emptied my glass in a matter of seconds.

"You can keep the painting," I retorted, unable to conceal my frustration, as I jumped down from the tall barstool.

I knew Monday morning would be awkward whether or not I slept with him. It seemed like he had a thing for blondes, after all. I also knew all of this had been a bad idea, no matter how it would've ended.

"Hey, I didn't mean to startle you," he said as he grabbed me by my wrist, seemingly unwilling to let me leave.

I let a drawn-out sigh escape my throat.

"You didn't startle me, Jefferson. You disappointed me, and that's a big difference. I've been nothing but professional toward you. I've ignored the rumors about you at the office simply because I wanted to believe you were better than that, better than the rest, while all you wanted was to get me on my back," I hissed.

"It's all a big misunderstanding, Emma, I-"

"If you'll excuse me." I withdrew my arm in one quick movement and grabbed my jacket from the stool next to Jefferson's.

"Emma, please, at least let me explain!" I could hear his words behind me as I approached the elevators. But I wasn't the person who'd stop and listen to a whole lot of bullshit excuses.

Was he coming after me? I didn't want to look over my shoulder, but as the elevator's doors opened, that's exactly what I did. And that's exactly why I literally ran into someone's chest.

"Oh god, I'm so-" I interrupted myself as I took a step backwards and realized just whom I'd ran into. I froze, unable to finish my sentence.

* * *

**I hope I didn't confuse you all too much with the name changes. Truth is, I've been picturing Emma's friends as Ruby and Mary Margaret inside my head all along, and I had been planning to name them accordingly. But something, not sure exactly what, changed my mind before I published Chapter 1.**

**After careful consideration and a very helpful conversation with one of the fic's readers, I decided to go back and change the names before I published any more chapters, to avoid further confusion.**

**Both you and I want it to be an OUAT fic after all (else we wouldn't be here), so why not take advantage of its characters and make them come to life in this alternate universe.**

**Did I make the right decision? Are you mad with me? Happy? Please leave a review below!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Glad y'all seem to embrace the changes I made to the story, I guess I made the right decision changing the names around (quite) a bit.**

**Posting this chapter, originally planned for publishing Sat/Sun, in advance as I'll be away during the weekend (and no interwebs, QQ).**

**Without further ado, let's find out who Emma ran into in that elevator, shall we? ;-)**

* * *

"You're in quite the hurry. Running from someone?" A smile that reached all the way to his unexplainably blue eyes appeared on his face, his teeth as white as I remembered them.

"Killian." I was completely unable to get any other comprehendible word out of my throat.

"Miss Swan," he responded with a nod.

It was obvious he had intended to step out of the elevator as it had reached its destination floor, but for some reason he didn't. Instead, the doors closed behind us and I was too baffled to press any button. We just stood there, face to face, neither of us completely sure as to how to approach the situation.

"Odd location to run into you on a Friday evening." Killian was the one to break the silence. His breath smelled of spearmint.

"I've been doing some charity stuff with-"

The elevator doors opened behind my back.

"There you are Emma, thank god you didn't leave yet."

"With him, I take it," Killian added to my unfinished sentence.

"Not really," I mumbled quietly, barely audible even to myself, as I adjusted my body to face Jefferson.

Jefferson had _found_ me. Not that I'd been hiding, more like escaping, but I had for a brief moment completely forgotten all about him and our disastrous 'business meeting'.

I sighed and rolled my eyes at the situation as he entered the elevator. There I stood, with a man I really wanted to get away from on my right, and a man I really did not want to get away from on my left.

"Please hear me out, will you?" Jefferson begged.

It's not like I had much of a choice, more or less trapped inside the elevator. "Shoot."

"I get why you're angry with me. And you have all rights to be. I overstepped and it was rude of me. I just hope you will be able to forgive and forget."

"Jefferson… Whatever, really. See you on Monday, okay?" I was still mad at him, but wanted to spare Killian from any further discomfort. And I wanted Jefferson to leave. Preferably, I wanted him to disappear in an instant in a cloud of smoke, like they do in the movies.

It had taken Jefferson a good minute to realize I had company. His eyes met Killian's as he excused himself and backed out of the elevator. The doors closed behind him.

"Well, that was -"

"Awkward," I interrupted Killian. "Sorry about that."

"Since when did people start calling dating 'charity stuff'?" Killian asked with a curious expression.

"Oh god, no. No no no. I am not dating that guy," I responded, cheeks blushing.

"Sure seems like he's got a different point of view," Killian sounded serious, and his playful smirk was nowhere to be seen. "I should get going. I've got some stuff to pick up."

"Need a hand?"

_Fuck._ Why did I choose those words? Did I give myself away, did he know I knew about his hand… about him?

"I'd appreciate that," he once again smiled.

I was obviously just being paranoid.

* * *

"Emma, what are you still doing here? I thought you left with -," Mary Margaret interrupted herself as she noticed Killian.

"Killian, you remember Mary Margaret?"

"How could I possibly forget?" He smiled charmingly.

Mary Margaret returned his smile with one that reminded me of that of a smitten teenager. I guess I wasn't the only one who found Killian attractive. Actually, the word 'attractive' didn't make him any justice. He was stunning - a dangerous trait in combination with his charms.

"I'm helping Killian collect some stuff," I said.

"I was unable to attend the auction personally, so I sent my…" Killian paused, as though he was carefully choosing his words. "…assistant to place some bids for me."

I faked an astonished expression along with a quiet gasp. And I probably overdid it, too. I wasn't at all surprised Killian had an assistant, but I had to pretend I was. Anything else would've seemed odd.

"I wanted to collect the items myself, to be able to personally thank the people responsible for the event," he added.

"I'm the one who should be thanking _you_," Mary Margaret responded. "Follow me."

She crossed the stage diagonally, her short heels making a tapping sound against the wooden floor, and approached its right corner.

"This should be all of it. I can't thank you enough for your generous contribution, Mr. Jones. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Please, call me Killian," he responded with a smirk.

"Emma, a word," Mary Margaret hissed in a whispering tone as Killian eyed his conquest, noticeably satisfied.

"What?" I asked as we entered a small room behind the stage. It was probably from there the stage's sound and lighting was monitored.

"What's he doing here?" She asked me, still almost whispering.

"He just told you," I stated the obvious.

"Yeah, of course. But what's he doing here _with you_?"

"Mary Margaret, I know what you're thinking, but I'm still not seeing him in _that_ way. I'm as surprised as you are to see him again, and here of all places too," I explained.

"Why don't you?"

"Why don't I what?"

"Why don't you see him in _that_ way? He's gorgeous, and it's totally obvious to anyone with eyes and ears that he's interested in you," she winked at me.

"You know I have some stuff to deal with before I'm ready to see _anyone_," I sighed.

"But a drink with your boss is okay?"

Was she mad at me because of that?

"I just wanted that painting," I reassured her.

"Yeah, right. Painting's the new synonym for penis?"

"Hey, that's very unfair of you! You know I'm working really hard with myself and there's nothing I want more than to be able to function as any normal person when it comes to relationships. Stop acting like a mother," I exclaimed, my eyes narrowed.

As my best friend, she was supposed to support me in my decisions, good ones as well as bad ones, not make me feel worse about myself.

"Emma… I didn't mean to go there. I am so, so sorry," she said with sincerity in her voice.

Obviously regretting her words, I forgave her without any hesitance, and we united in a hug.

"You should go help Killian," she reminded me. "I still have some stuff to do before I can head home. Call me later?"

"I will," I said as we re-entered the stage area.

* * *

Killian's assistant had been busy at the auction. Four paintings - all of them with an oceanic theme; an odd-looking compass; an antique, miniature globe; two black brass candelabra; and one big book with a worn leather cover was now stuffed into the trunk of Killian's scarlet SUV, which he'd parked directly below the forty floor building. The car looked new and expensive.

"How could this assistant of yours know that you wanted these particular objects?" I asked, the water vapor from my breath visible in the cold and dark night. Our only source of light came from lit-up windows, lampposts and the traffic on the streets.

"William's been working for me for several years. He knows me quite well by now."

"What do you need him for?" I asked with curiosity.

"I don't really need him," he laughed, "but I've grown so used to his assistance I couldn't see my life without him in it. He's doing all the boring and time consuming everyday stuff, like laundry and grocery shopping, which in return lets me focus on my business."

"And how does he feel about doing all the, as you call it, _boring_ stuff?"

"Hey, must I remind you he's getting paid to do it?" He smirked at me.

"Point taken."

I might have known some things about Killian and his life, but there were still things left to uncover. Jefferson had been calling me secretive earlier, which was nothing in comparison to Killian.

And then, that awkward moment of goodbye's was yet again upon us. I didn't want to say goodbye. Not when not knowing whether or not I'd ever see Killian again.

_Please don't leave me, please don't leave me, plea-_

"Need a ride anywhere?" He asked.

_Jackpot!_

I had had my beetle parked just across the road all evening. It would survive there through the night as well.

"If you don't mind," I replied.

"If I did, I wouldn't have asked." That dangerously charming smirk once again appeared on his lips.

I couldn't help but curiously study Killian's hand as he opened the passenger seat door for me. He was using his right, perfectly fine, hand. I wondered if he had any fine motor skills at all in his left hand, with the prosthetic.

"Where to, miss Swan?"

He made an illegal U-turn as soon as I'd given him my address.

"So… You mentioned a business?" I asked him to break the silence.

"I sell boats," he responded.

"Sailboats?"

I had done it again. In this pace, I'd give myself away in no time. Why did I have to be so inquisitive?

"A little bit of everything, whatever my customers desire. But yes, mostly sailboats. I sometimes take on old ones, have my employees fix them up, make them high standard and resell at a profit," he said while looking at me more than he was looking at the road. "What about you, lass?"

"I work at a publishing office. Nothing fancy, I'm just the assistant of my boss, a boss which you by the way met earlier."

"Mary Margaret's your boss?"

"I wish," I laughed. "Jefferson, the desperate guy in the elevator."

"That makes sense. You had me worried for a second."

"Why is that?"

"You told him you'd see him again on Monday. Thought you were going on a second date with that jerk."

"Hey, what makes you believe he's a jerk?" I giggled at his observations.

"He had obviously managed to upset you for whatever reason. Not any of my business, though. Just happy you're not dating him."

"And why do you care so much?" I gave him a playful punch on his upper arm with my elbow.

"I just do."

He pulled over right outside of my building and followed me to the door. He looked me in the eyes as he took my hands in his. The black leather glove covering his right hand was warm from body heat - the left not as much.

Killian's touch, though trivial, sent shivers of pleasure down my spine - oh how I quietly and in denial had been longing for physical contact. The air in between us was charged enough for me to almost be able to touch it, and in the moment, I expected something more - anything - to happen.

What I actually got was a "thanks for the help", followed by a casual, friendly hug - _a _freaking_ hug -_ before he went back to his giant SUV. Confused and disappointed, I stood by and watched as he started its engine. Its lights lit up entire block before it, along with Killian, went out of my sight.

If Killian, like Mary Margaret had been so convinced about, actually was interested in me, then why didn't he just kiss me? It had been the perfect opportunity, perhaps a bit cliché, but still perfect. I had given him my best version of the 'do-me eyes', completely irresistible to anyone... But him.

Any normal guy would've taken my number a week ago by now. This, whatever it was, was starting to get to me. I felt frustrated. Was this what my future would look like; hoping to bump in to Killian at the most random places, just to part shortly after, unsure if I'd ever see him again?

I hovered between wanting to explore every inch of his body, and trying to forget his very existence. The uncertainty of it all drove me mad. I needed certainty and stability in my life, something Killian clearly wasn't going to offer me.

The cold air, its dense humidity making it feel much colder than it actually was, brought me back to reality. How long had I been standing there by my door, thinking, staring? The intense feelings I experienced on the inside had helped me ignore the fact that I was shaking violently, my teeth chattering behind lips almost the same hue as Killian's eyes.

* * *

I rarely bathed. Why would I, when showers were quicker and more convenient, anyway. And I disliked my bathtub. It didn't matter how much I scrubbed it with various detergents; its stains simply wouldn't dissolve, but that night I couldn't care less about whether or not I found the tub disgusting. Doing absolutely nothing while surrounded by hot water and white, fluffy foam seemed appealing. I was still freezing like mad from when I'd lost all sense of time and space outside of my front door.

I turned on the tub's faucet, one hundred percent _very_ hot water emerging from it, and poured half a bottle of raspberry scented bathing foam in it. More is always more.

As I began to undress, I emptied the pockets of my jacket.

"Can't remember putting a post-it there", I thought out loud.

It was one of those regular, yellow ones, folded twice on the middle. My heart skipped a beat as I unfolded it.

_Emma,_

_Dial this number once you're free._

_Killian_

I fidgeted the post-it nervously. Studied Killian's handwriting carefully. Some of the letters had cute, curved tails. Feminine, though not overly so.

When did he find the opportunity to place it in my pocket? And what did he mean with 'once you're free'_?_ I wasn't exactly the busiest person in the world. I even had the time to do my own laundry and grocery shopping; it was more the matter of whether or not I wanted to do it. I preferred takeaway and bought new underwear instead of washing my used ones.

I was free _now_, if that's what he meant. I grabbed my cell and considered calling him straight away, but soon realized that would make me nothing but creepy. Instead, I remembered my promise to Mary Margaret, and selected her name from my Favorite Contacts list with my thumb.

"Emma! You're home earlier than I expected you to be."

"Who say's I'm home?" I said ironically. Mary Margaret didn't pick up on the irony.

"You're at _his_ place?" She lowered her voice metaphorically, like it would matter through the phone.

"I wish. I literally begged for him to kiss me. I got a hug."

"A hug!? Are you being serious?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"He's either playing hard to get, or he's way too well-mannered. Perhaps he's waiting for you to take the first step?"

I sighed. "There are things you don't know."

"So, enlighten me?"

"It's not that simple. It's confidential information I found out, sort of by mistake, through a client. I can't tell you any more than that, but it changes things. In fact, it changes everything."

"Oh come on, you know you can trust me! Who would I tell anyway, Ruby?"

"I know I can trust you, Mary Margaret... but it's a question of work ethics. I'll tell you everything as soon as I possibly can, okay? For now, let's just say he's not the guy you casually screw and then forget to call back."

I could hear her disappointment and I regretted mentioning it in the first place. I knew knowing something's up but not knowing what was mortifying for her.

"He did leave a cryptic post-it in my pocket, though," I paused. "There's a number he wants me to call _once I'm free_. I've honestly got no idea what he wants me to be free from."

"Don't over analyze everything, it's a good sign! What guy would leave a note in your pocket if he wasn't interested?"

I knew she was right. I could definitely feel there was something between us. I just didn't know what it was, but if there was one thing I was going to do, it was to figure that out.

"How do you feel about him? Are you, you know, on the same page?" Mary Margaret asked.

"I know I want him." There, I'd been honest with both my friend and myself. "But I don't know why or how. There's something about him that affects me in a way I can't remember anyone having affected me before."

"Sounds to me like you're falling for Killian Jones!" I could hear the excitement in her voice. She wanted me to make as much progress when it came to those things as I myself wanted, if not more.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I gotta go!" I carelessly threw my phone on the couch.

I am sure Mary Margaret viewed my sudden goodbye as an excuse to avoid discussing the topic any further. Truth was, I'd forgotten all about the running water, and my bathtub had started to flood. Water was escaping from below my bathroom door and out to the hall. A lot of water.

Almost paralyzed, I watched as the water covered a larger and larger area of my floor, before I managed to collect my thoughts and react properly. I threw the bathroom door open and a smaller tsunami of warm water hit me, reaching all the way up to my waist.

As I turned off the faucet, my entire apartment was covered in two inches of water, and there was a white, fluffy foam all over my grey, tiled bathroom walls.

_And that's why you don't bathe, Emma Swan._

* * *

**Poor Emma. All she wanted to do was to warm up after that (in several ways) cool encounter with Killian.**

**Got any thoughts, comments, yay's/nay's, anything at all on your mind? Please do leave a review below, I enjoy every single one of them. ****Yep it's THAT easy to make me smile. :-)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Aaand we're back on track again! I'll be updating this fic on Thursdays and Sundays from now on, as it fits my schedule perfectly.**

**A warm welcome to the story's new readers, and a million thanks for your interest in this story, along with your kind words. Your reviews made me laugh so hard my boyfriend must've thought I was going crazy. Keep 'em coming!**

**Giving Ruby some love and a share of the limelight in this chapter, I really like her character on the show, but I feel she's been neglected as of lately.**

* * *

"Can I crash with you for a couple of days?"

Instead of just showing up outside of Ruby's door, I decided to be safe rather than sorry and sent her a text. I figured she was alone and bored as her reply arrived immediately.

"Why of course, what's happened?"

"Was going to take a bath. Apartment flooded. Unusable until sometime next week."

_And that's the best case scenario_, I thought to myself.

"Ouch! Text me when you're outside and I'll throw down the keys for you."

"Thanks, you're an angel Ruby. See you soon!"

I started packing what was necessary right away. Lit candles that spread a scent of vanilla guided me through the darkness of my apartment. It would've been quite cozy if it wasn't for the fact that I was wading through inches of water, ruining my genuine leather boots while at it.

I needed clothes for a at least five days, wallet, phone, keys… I packed my laptop, too, even though the water had remorselessly destroyed the computer's charger. I had been lucky, although it was difficult to view it that way in the moment. Considering the mess that was my apartment, and all the items I kept stored more or less in piles on the floor, it was a miracle I hadn't gotten electrocuted before I found the time to turn the power off.

Ruby lived ten minutes away by car from my place. Fairly close, but not exactly on a walking distance. Absolutely not on a walking distance as a lonely girl on a Friday night. I wouldn't walk the dark streets alone even if I'd gotten paid to do it, unless there was alcohol clouding my judgment. I had many reasons to hate alcohol, yet I didn't.

With my handbag strapped over my shoulder, an overstuffed Louis Vuitton duffle bag I'd given myself as a birthday present in one hand, and the car keys in the other, I descended the few steps down to the pavement. It took me a couple of seconds before I realized I had left my beetle where I'd parked it previously that day; downtown.

_Why, of course._ Had anything gone my way that day? First that disastrous 'date' with Jefferson, then Killian acting all strange - for being a guy at least, then the water accident, and now this. It felt like the universe was doing its very best to fuck with me; it felt like someone or something wanted me to suffer. Was my Karma really that bad?

I had done a few things I somewhat regretted in my life, even illegal things. Nothing that had physically hurt other people, but illegal enough to put me in jail. I could be a bitch toward people, but not unless they'd done something to deserve it… Perhaps that wasn't entirely true, I could be a bitch toward people who'd done nothing to deserve it, too. But overall, I wasn't what I would call a _bad_ person. I was reserved toward strangers, and I had my reasons to be. But when and if letting them in, they would find a loyal friend in me; a friend who would do anything for them, even if it meant putting my own needs aside. I didn't ask for much in return. Instead, I was independent and wanted to solve even the unsolvable problems on my own. If I couldn't help myself, why would someone else be able to do so?

I closed my eyes, as though my car would materialize itself in front of me once I reopened my eyelids. It obviously didn't. I sighed heavily, threw my overpriced bag on the damp asphalt and called a cab.

* * *

"I was going to ask if I could stay with Mary Margaret as she's got a spare bedroom, but you know… David and all that stuff. Don't want to disturb the happy couple," I said as Ruby transformed her sofa into a bed; a bed we would be sharing.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, hun. You will have more fun with me anyway. Did anyone say single girl's movie night, the eat all you want edition, 'cause that's exactly what I heard," she said with a laugh.

"What's on the menu?" I asked with a smile as I removed my boots and made myself comfortable in my provisional bed. It wasn't as big or soft as my own, but as long as I would be able to sleep in it, I was happy.

"Why, Ben & Jerry's, of course. You pick the movie," she made a pointing gesture toward her movie collection, the movies pedantically sorted first after genre, then title. "Anything but Twilight, pretty please. I'm still mad that Bella chose that creepy, pale, old vampire over the steaming hot werewolf dude."

"I wouldn't watch Twilight unless I had a gun pressed against my temple," I reassured her as I directed my eyes toward the romantic comedy section of her shelf.

This was how I always had imagined teenage girls' sleepover parties. However, I had never attended one myself, so I couldn't know for sure. I didn't have any friends when I was a teenager; the constant moving from family to family, town to town, made sure to that. As soon as I had made any progress on the friend topic, it was time for me to pack my few belongings and leave.

When I had turned eighteen, my only goal in life had been to find that place I could proudly call my very own home. A place where I would feel safe and comfortable; a place where I would experience shelter and joy. If I would've thought my flooded apartment was that home, I would've been devastated to see it ruined. Since I wasn't, I assumed the apartment wasn't 'the one' for me.

"What about this one?" I asked as I pulled _Pretty Woman_ out of the shelf.

I'd watched it enough times to know some of its dialogue by heart, which meant conversing during the movie wouldn't annoy me the slightest. Julia Roberts's character also reminded me a bit about myself. Vivian started out as a lost and broken person, with literally nothing in her life, just to end up healed and with more than she could ever have dreamt of, including her soul mate. I was somewhere in the middle of my own Vivian Ward-journey; I'd gone from nothing to _something_.

"So, you've broken things up with Victor for good this time?" I asked Ruby as the titles were running.

"Yeah, I believe so. I'm still young, I want to enjoy life a little before settling down. Get to know myself better, you know. What I want, what I don't want, and what I need," she paused to think her answer through. "Maybe there's room for Victor to reenter my life once I've figured those things out, or maybe we just weren't supposed to be together," Ruby responded.

I admired how she always managed to be so honest with everyone, including herself.

"You seem awfully cool with it," I stated.

"I've had some time to prepare myself mentally. I started to think about breaking things up several months ago. Besides, it was a clean break, no hard feelings. Perhaps we'll even try the friend thing within a close future."

Being friends with exes was a topic I knew nothing about. The relationships I'd had that lasted longer than one night usually ended pretty damn ugly, for various reasons.

"How's it going for you, by the way? It feels like we haven't talked, just you and I, for ages," she said as she scooped a spoonful of hazelnut flavored ice cream into her mouth.

She was referring to the ongoing battle I had against my own destructive behavior.

"Okay, I guess," I said, giving her an unconvincing smile.

"And now try responding the question one more time, with honesty, Emma." She gave me a serious look through mascara-heavy lashes.

"Ever since I met this guy-"

"Killian?" She interrupted me.

I confirmed her assumptions with a nod before continuing.

"It's like… just a couple of weeks ago, I'd literally spend my weekends hunting down suitable prey. Now, it feels like I wouldn't do anything stupid unless stupid found me first."

I tasted the ice cream. If mouth orgasms were a thing, this would be it. Heaven in a container, no doubt about it.

"You're not actively searching for stupid anymore, that must be considered progress?" She asked, well aware that's how my therapist would put it.

I laughed.

If Mary Margaret was the calm, stable and protective friend, Ruby was the energetic and funny one. In moments like these, funny was a nice trait. At the club, funny was the little devil sitting on your left shoulder telling you another few shots never killed anyone, making the angel to its right cry rivers out of despair.

But I loved them both oh so much. They were the closest thing to a family I had ever had. They were my sisters - partners in crime, if you will. This was a three-way relationship I hoped would last forever. I could do without my prince charming, as long as I had Ruby and Mary Margaret by my side.

* * *

I woke up way too early that Saturday morning. At least if you take into consideration we stayed up talking until sunrise.

Ruby was rustling with pots and pans by her kitchenette. Her tiny studio didn't allow for anything larger. It wasn't needed though; the kitchenette along with the rest of the studio was top modern and of highest standards. She'd bought it during its construction phase, absolutely certain she'd spend several years living under its roof.

"Hey, you're awake," she threw me a glance while keeping her focus on the stove.

"The question is, why are you?" I covered my face with my pillow.

I wasn't used to living with someone else, and the only thing that ever got to wake me, if not waking by myself, was the annoying sound of my alarm.

"I'm determined to serve you the best breakfast you've ever had."

"That's not too hard to accomplish, you know. I usually just grab a coffee on my way to work," I responded.

"And that's the other reason I'm doing this. I shall convert you into a breakfast person during your stay with me," she faked an evil laugh.

"Need any help?"

"Nope. You just stay where you are. Breakfast in bed tastes better."

If my eyes had been open, they'd been rolling.

Twenty minutes later, Ruby placed an antique looking silver tray on top of the cubical coffee table next to where I was lying. The tray held pancakes, syrup, bacon, sausages, orange juice and three kinds of eggs; boiled, scrambled and fried. In a pot that did not fit on the tray was some kind of tea that smelled of ginger, cardamom and cinnamon.

She poured herself a cup of the mysterious beverage.

I sat up and eyed it suspiciously. "That isn't coffee."

"Don't be such a junkie, Emma! It's a chai latte. Taste it before you judge it," she giggled and took a seating right next to me in the sofa bed.

She handed me my cup. I took one tiny and careful sip.

"It tastes like you brewed Christmas along with Santa himself," I joked. "Didn't know he tasted this good, though."

"See, the world doesn't spin around coffee."

"It will take more than one cup of chai latte to convince me tea isn't just a waste of perfectly fine water," I answered.

"Here," she handed me a plate. "You enjoy your breakfast. I want you to tell me exactly how much you loved it once I get back."

Ruby rose and grabbed a slice of fried bacon between her thumb and her index finger.

"You're going somewhere?"

"Some people work during weekends, you know," she said while chewing on the bacon. "The food at the restaurant won't cook itself."

For a second, I had forgotten all about her career swap. She'd given up a well paid job as an estate agent in favor of doing what she loved the most; cooking. Her new job didn't pay half as much as her old one, but overall, she seemed happy about her decision.

Ruby finished her chai latte in a matter of seconds before leaving me alone with the words "mi casa es tu casa."

* * *

"You cannot guess who visited the restaurant this afternoon!" Ruby exclaimed without closing the door behind her.

She'd been working a twelve hour shift while I had been doing absolutely nothing constructive, unless playing Mario Cart on Playstation counts. It had been fun for about thirty minutes, and I was now bored to death.

"Victor?" I responded rhetorically.

"No, silly. Killian! And oh, he likes seafood, if you ever plan on surprising him with dinner," she said as she closed the door and removed her coat.

All out of sudden, a hundred fluttering butterflies came to life inside my stomach, all at once.

"I've also got some good news. He was on a date," she added.

Killian on a date? The butterflies died just as quick as they'd arrived, all crushed by the big, fat rock now pressing against my ribcage.

"Dearest Ruby. Explain to me just why Killian being on a date is good news, pretty please." I sounded just as disappointed as I felt.

"Well, first of all, who goes on a date at three in the afternoon if they actually wanted for something _more_ to happen?" She grabbed a round, red pillow from the sofa and joined me on the floor in front of the television.

"That doesn't mean-"

"Hear me out, will you," she interrupted me. "I noticed absolutely nothing in his eyes when he looked at her. He didn't smile at her even once from what I could tell. And they didn't leave together; he turned left while she turned right. No goodbye kiss, just a hug."

_Just a hug_. That's exactly what he'd given me the previous night, too.

"Was she pretty?" I asked, even though I didn't really want to know.

"Of course she was, but that doesn't mean a thing other than that he's got good taste in women. But that we already knew," she said, trying her best to cheer me up.

Oh Ruby. So annoyingly optimistic all the time. I myself wanted to break something. Preferably something valuable too, and I would've done so if I had been in my own apartment.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Emma," she placed her arm around my shoulders.

"I'm fine, and I'm glad you told me," I lied.

Truth was, I was anything but fine. Even if he'd been on a disastrous date, he had still been on a date, while he didn't even bother to ask me out. Hell to the no I'd ever surprise him with any seafood dinner.

_Fucking hell, pull yourself together Emma! He's just a guy. You've managed without him your entire life, you'll manage the rest as well,_ I shouted to myself inside of my head. I felt pathetic. This wasn't me at all.

"Wanna go grab a drink?" I suddenly asked Ruby.

"If a drink is what you need, then a drink you shall receive," she said, friendlily stroking my arm. "You gotta make me one promise, though. You're going home with no one but me tonight. Deal?"

"Deal," I responded, in no way planning to keep that promise. "Hit the shower, you smell like frying oil."

"Hey!" She bumped her shoulder into mine.

"Just being honest," I smiled innocently. "I'll give Mary Margaret a call."

* * *

**Oh no… Don't do anything stupid now, Emma!**

**Use the field below to leave me a comment. Don't be shy, I _want_ to get a two way communication going! :-)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A huge thank you to each and every one of you for your kind words. You make me blush! :-)**

**Thursday evening in Sweden means another chapter for you!**

**Making up for the last chapter being a few hundred words shorter than usual with this longer chapter. Feel the luv!**

**Emma can't be up to any good, can she? ****Please, enjoy!**

* * *

"Whatever happens tonight, make sure to not let her out of sight," I could hear Ruby whisper to Mary Margaret.

"What's up?" Mary Margaret responded in a worried tone.

"Let's just say she's in a fragile state of mind, and the last thing she needs is to do something she'll regret by the morning."

"Girls. I love how thoughtful you are, but you really don't need to babysit me. I'm fine and I already promised Ruby I will go home with no one but her tonight," I added to their secret conversation.

They both looked surprised I'd managed to hear their hushed voices over the loud house music pumping from the DJ booth.

"Anyways, first round's on me. Do Martinis sound appealing?" I asked.

"With extra olives," Ruby smiled widely.

"I'll come with you," Mary Margaret responded.

It sure seemed like they planned on babysitting me, although I'd requested them to not do so.

With my red heels on, I became quite tall, and had - partly thanks to that - no problem getting the bartender's attention. That, along with how my hair appeared a radiant golden hue in the blinking, shifting and sweeping lights of the club, made me hard to ignore even if someone had wanted to.

"Three large Martinis, shaken please, and with a small bowl of extra olives on the side!" I shouted to make myself heard over the music's beat along with the buzz of about twenty other people by the large bar, all simultaneously chatting.

"Coming right up!"

Although this was our place of choice two out of three times we went out, I didn't recognize the man behind the bar. He couldn't be new to the profession - he was way too skilled with the glasses, shakers and bottles to be a beginner. He was clearly showing off as he built a tower with our cocktail glasses, filling the bottom two from the top one. I watched his every move, noticeably impressed.

"One Martini for the beautiful blond lady, and two for her friends, I hope," he said with a sincere smile on his face.

"Who says I don't want all the enjoyment for myself?" I responded in a deep voice.

"I like women who know what they want." Did I see a spark in his dark, gray eyes?

"All right, he's a hottie, but enough flirting. Let's get back to Ruby," Mary Margaret tugged on my arm before picking up the bowl of olives and one of the cocktail glasses.

I grabbed the other two glasses, after having given the bartender a silent promise through long lashes.

"I thought you had something going on with Killian!" Mary Margaret hissed as we approached our table.

"So did I," I responded indifferently.

"Is this about that thing, whatever it is, you can't tell us about?" She motioned me to stop and looked at me with concern.

"I wish. I just want to forget all about him for tonight, have a little fun. A little flirting never killed anyone."

"I know you better than you seem to know yourself, Emma. A little flirting may not kill, but with you… One thing leads to another, and suddenly you're naked in someone else's bed. I don't say this to be mean or to upset you, I am just giving you the truth which you seem to be ignoring when in this mood."

Her words didn't upset me the slightest, but the fact that there was a dark truth behind them, a truth I've been struggling with ever since _Neal_, made them quite painful to hear.

"Emma. If you don't think you're ready to date, then you're certainly not ready for intimacy either," she added.

"You seem to believe I want to fuck everyone I'm talking to." I took a large sip from one of the glasses I was carrying.

"Well, do you?"

What kind of question was that?

"Of course I don't! I don't _want_ to fuck anyone until I've sorted my shit out, and that my friend, is why I see Dr. Hopper in the first place."

"Good. Now that you've been honest with yourself, let's enjoy our drinks. No unknown men allowed," she added.

"That's easy for you to say. You've got David awaiting you every single evening, keeping your food and your bed warm."

I loved that she'd found her prince Charming in David, I loved the fact she wasn't alone, and I loved that she would soon have that family of hers she'd been longing for since the first time I met her, if not longer. But I was jealous at where she was in life. Everything surrounding her - along with herself - was so stable. Excluding me. I couldn't see myself with a kid anywhere within an even somewhat near future, while Mary Margaret would be there within a matter of only a few years.

Instead of turning on her defenses and lashing out at me, Mary Margaret put the glass and the olives on a small side table to her left, and gave me a hug. No pathetic excuse of a Killian-hug, but a long, warm, comforting, loving hug that made the thick, icy layer of anger imprisoning me melt away from my skin, all at once.

"I needed that," I said as she, after having embraced me for a good minute, let go of me.

* * *

The place was closing for the night, and the three of us were surprisingly sober. We'd kept it on a civil level to be able to talk about anything and everything while just enjoying the music and watching the people on the dance floor from a safe distance. Not exactly a wild and crazy girls night out, but I actually preferred it over going all-in. A couple of drinks over several hours had been enough to boost my mood and keep me cozily warm.

I was standing behind Ruby and Mary Margaret in the wardrobe line, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey blondie. What do you say we continue this party at my place," a husky man's voice whispered in my ear. His warm breath tickled against the sensitive skin on my neck.

I turned around to find myself only inches away from a pair of dark, gray eyes - the very same eyes I'd seen sparkle behind the bar a couple of hours ago. It seemed like the bartender had picked up on the silent promise of mine.

I smirked at him and stepped out of the line, allowing for a petite, black haired girl to take my spot.

"Your place you say, eh? Give me one good reason and I might consider it," I responded while tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"You like what you see," he said as he leaned in closer. He was tall and muscular, and I had to bend my neck to be able to meet his gaze. "And I like what I see."

His mouth was once again by my ear, and I could feel his lower lip brushing lightly against my earlobe as he spoke. His touch made me feel dizzy, like the ground underneath of my feet had started to shake.

I did indeed like what I saw. His brown, slightly curly hair along with his short beard made him look rough, and those gray eyes added mystery to his appearance. Rough and mysterious had always been my type.

"I don't do one night stands," I replied in an attempt to rescue myself out of the dangerously tempting trap.

"Who says it has to be one night only?" He placed his hand on my neck, tousling his fingers in my curls.

I swallowed loudly. How could I possibly resist? I was, like Ruby had put it, in a fragile state of mind, longing for nothing but physical contact. It would help me fill the empty hole inside of me, if only temporarily.

_Temporarily is better than not at all_, I though as I closed my eyes, awaiting his next move. Behind shut eyelids, images of what was awaiting me flashed by. _Heavy breathing, heartbeats synchronized, sweaty bodies grinding against each other…_

"Emma, where have you-" Ruby interrupted her speech to gape at the stranger. "My god, Graham! Is that really you? I haven't seen you in like forever!"

"Ruby, doll! Long time no see, indeed!" The bartender gave her the widest of surprised smiles, eyebrows raised.

"You two know each other?" I asked, severely confused.

"Do we know each other? Graham and I went to college together," Ruby explained as she threw herself around his neck.

"And don't forget us leading that group of scouts together," he added.

Ruby released her grip around him a little, as though to allow him to breathe. "There's something about the woods I just love. The air, the freedom…" she paused. "Anyway, I thought you moved back to Europe after graduation?"

"Actually, I did. I attended the European Bartender School in London, and just recently moved back. And now I'm working here, as a bartender, surprise surprise. How crazy it is to see you again!"

He gently kissed her cheek and squeezed her upper arms. They were genuinely happy to see each other, like two since long lost friends finally reuniting.

They seemed to have quite a lot of catching up to do, and I, uncomfortable by the thought that I most likely would've ended up in Ruby's friend's bed, left them to it to go find Mary Margaret. I hadn't seen her since Graham's hand appeared on my shoulder.

I found her waiting by the doors, with her back rested against the wall and her powdery pink coat folded over her arms.

"There you are," she smiled at me. "I just talked to David. He's at the pub across the street playing pool with some friends. He asked if we wanted to stop by before heading home."

"Sure, why not. You go ahead and let David know we'll be joining them, I'll wait for Ruby," I replied.

"She went to look for you, and now she's the one we're waiting for?" Mary Margaret giggled at the irony.

"She ran into an old friend of hers," I responded, not entirely convinced friends was all they were.

"Let her know this friend is more than welcome to tag along. See you soon," she said as she swept her coat around her body and left through the glass doors.

* * *

"I don't mean to be a party pooper, but we were thinking we'd catch up over a bottle back home," Ruby responded as I told her about our plans. "Easier to talk," she added.

"Of course," I said. I had no rights to be disappointed at her after all the times I had been the dreaded party pooper, leaving them early to go home with someone else.

"Here," she handed me her spare key.

I hesitated taking it. "You sure you two don't want to be alone? I could always get a room for the night."

"Are you out of your mind, Emma? You're staying with me, as we agreed upon," she gave me a surprised expression, as though my words had offended her.

"All right then," I said and took the key from her hand.

I still did not want to disturb them, even though she wanted me to believe I wouldn't do that. Her sofa bed wasn't big enough for the three of us, and I didn't want to have to force Graham away, unless he wanted to go home himself.

"Have fun with Graham," I winked at her and began walking toward the exit.

"Say hello to David from me!" Ruby exclaimed behind me.

I lit a cigarette the second I placed my red heels on the cobblestone outside of the club. I wasn't smoking regularly, but found pleasure in it every now and then. It helped calm my nerves and think clearly, and it tasted like heaven after a couple of drinks.

Smoke thicker than water vapor emerged from my mouth as I stared at the pub across the street. 'O'Connor's' it said with green and white letters on a black sign on the brick wall next to its entrance. The pub was advertising Guinness lager on a chalkboard, along with the image of a four-leafed clover, which made it even more obvious O'Connor's was an Irish pub. The only Irish thing tempting me was not a place, but a person.

It seemed like I had to make up for lost impulsivity, like I had a built-in impulse account desperately striving for balance. What I did the next moment made up for my inability to live out my impulses with Graham earlier.

I found the neatly folded post-it in the pocket of my leather jacket. It took me about ten seconds to make my mind up.

"I'm free," I said as Killian answered my call.

"Bloody hell, Swan. It's three in the morning." His raspy voice made it sound like he'd been asleep just seconds earlier.

"I know," I responded, not feeling the slightest of guilt.

"What… Where are you?"

"Doesn't matter. What does matter is, I'm on my way to this twenty four-seven burger place I heard is amazing."

"Are you alone?"

"Well… yes."

I could hear him sigh.

"A greasy burger all alone at three AM you say, miss. Have you been drinking?" He asked, in a much more alert tone.

_Duh._ Of course I had. Why else would I wake him up in the middle of the night to chat about burgers?

"You coming or what?" I asked, surprised over my own straightforwardness.

If Ruby wanted alone-time with Graham, I too wanted alone-time with the guy who had recently managed to turn my brain upside down without any particular effort. An Irishman as an accessory at an Irish pub in all honor, but I guess I thought they'd all be one big and happy family at the pub, meaning I wouldn't get Killian's undivided attention. That burger place would, on the other hand, allow me to still my appetite and have Killian all to myself.

"Must be a hell of a burger to drag me out of bed at this hour. Don't disappoint me, lass." I could almost hear him smirk.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later and a few blocks away, I could see Killian in the dark night. I swallowed heavily as he approached me with long, confident strides.

He was wearing pants the hue of charcoal, a white shirt - collarbone area unbuttoned - underneath a black woolen coat, and a gray, knitted scarf on top of it. It was a casually handsome outfit, which drew my attention to his way more than casually handsome face. If Graham was rough and mysterious, Killian was rougher and even more mysterious.

His mere presence left me speechless. Why did he have that effect on me? It was annoying, yet fascinating.

"Did you consider swapping careers?" He asked me.

A puzzled expression spread across my face.

"I bet you'd do an impressive job as a saleswoman. I know I would've bought just about anything if you were the one advertising it."

I laughed. Not a deep, loud and genuinely amused laugh, but more the giggle of a blushing, insecure schoolgirl. If I could've given myself a believable bitch-slap, I would've done so.

Instead, I found myself drowning in his blue eyes. His dark and thick eyebrows threw a shadow over his sockets, making his eyes look a lot darker than they'd appeared in daylight.

"So, you hungry?" I managed to collect all the pieces of me which I'd lost during his mesmerizing gaze.

"Starving. You woke the bear in the middle of its hibernation," he said, showing off his teeth in that confident way I'd started to get used to.

It wasn't exactly the most elegant of places, but it was cozy and homely with its lit candles and woody-meets-pastel interior. A group of five people were enjoying their cheesy burgers and French fries while keeping an energetic conversation going at the opposite side of the diner.

An older lady handed us the à la carte menus as we sat down at a small, square teak table. Killian removed his coat and scarf, and hung it on the back of his black leather chair. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, uncovering his left wrist. It was accessorized with a thick leather strap watch, which made it impossible to tell that his left hand wasn't the hand he had been born with.

I followed Killian's example and stripped down to my off-white lace blouse and dark grey pencil skirt. He gave me a peculiar look.

"How come you're not in company of your friends, Saturday night and all?" He asked. "You're certainly not dressed for staying home alone."

What was I supposed to respond to that? _Well, I was with my friends, but then something reminded me of you and I simply couldn't resist dragging you out of bed for a burger in the middle of the night?_

"How come you're not in company of your girlfriend?" I blurted. _Oops._

"My _what_?" He asked, his face musculature gossiping about how my words had just surprised him.

"Nothing," I responded with a sigh.

"Hey, lass. You can't just throw something like that on the table without explaining further."

"Ruby saw you today, at the restaurant where she works," I looked straight at him, letting him know I wanted him to fill me in on the details.

"Now I get what you're on about. I bet she told you I was on a date, didn't she?"

"Well… yes. Weren't you?"

He dodged my question. "You're cute when you're jealous."

"Jealous of what, and why would I be?" I wasn't at all jealous. Or was I?

"You tell me, Emma," he said, leaning back against his chair with a complacent smirk.

He rarely called me by my first name, for some to me unknown reason. It was usually 'lass', or 'miss Swan'. The first time I could recall he'd called me Emma, was on that yellow post-it.

"Ready to order?" The older lady seemed to show up at our table out of nowhere, now impatiently looking at us through a pair of thick glasses connected to a senile string.

"I'll have what she's having," Killian gestured toward me.

"A medium cheeseburger with fries, mayonnaise on the side, and a large coke, please." I wanted the aoili, but my cravings for garlic would have to wait to a more appropriate time and place.

"Two cheeseburgers, then. Coming right up!" The lady left as quickly as she'd arrived.

I gave Killian a good stare before deciding to respond to his accusations. The alcohol I'd had throughout the night made it easier for me to tell the truth.

"I am not jealous, Killian. But I'm used to guys being so eager to get their pants off they barely even ask about my name before asking me out. We, you and I, have run in to each other on more than one occasion and you haven't even taken my phone number…" I paused, not sure what my point behind telling him all of this was, before continuing. "I wanted to find excuses behind why you aren't acting like, you know, the rest of them. You dating someone would explain your behavior quite well, to be frank."

"Emma, love." He leaned forward and took my hands in his. His left hand looked and felt like any hand would. "Let's say I was dating someone. Do you really think I'd show up here tonight?"

"You're being polite," I responded.

"Why do you have to be so goddamn insecure, woman," he murmured.

"I may be confused about your intentions, but I'm anything but insecure," I snapped, removing my hands from his and placing them in my lap.

"Give me your number and have dinner with me tomorrow. Hell, give me your panties while at it, so I can sniff them while jerking off like some kind of creep. Is that what you want me to say?" He responded, noticeably annoyed.

"I don't know, okay! I want you to ask because you want to, not because you're trying to make a point." I stubbornly and defensibly crossed my arms over my chest.

"Bloody hell, Swan! Why are you making this so much harder than it really is? What do I have to say and do to convince you I am interested in _you_?"

Once again, he left me speechless. He'd said what I wanted to hear and his words had a calming effect on my temper. He wasn't dating anyone, and he had - finally - made it quite clear he actually was interested in me.

_Now what?_

Before I had the time to elaborate any further on the subject, two tall glasses of coke appeared on our table, accompanied by hamburger plates the size of large Frisbees. My stomach rumbled at the sight and scent of grilled meat.

"Cheers, lass." Killian raised his hand. The many ice cubes bobbing around in the dark liquid were making tinkling sounds against the glass.

A peace gesture.

"Cheers," I said as I tried my best to read the man sitting in the chair in front of me.

* * *

**Thanks for following this story, please leave a review regarding anything that's on your mind; questions/thoughts/suggestions/input/whatever is more than welcome.**

**Now that we've gotten the ball rolling, expect some intense stuff in the next chapter. ****How intense? Why don't you find out by yourselves. ;-)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sunday means more Breaking Bad Habits. Fluffy chapter ahead, o'hoy! I just love it, my favorite chapter so far. Dem feeeels!**

**And omg, over 100 followers!? I don't know what to say. Thank you, and thank you again. Writing wouldn't be nearly as fun without you guys.**

**I have a little gift for your you, a gift I've decided to call _The Things You Do_. It will contain a series of one-shots, some of which will have a direct or indirect connection to this fic. First chapter, a steamy Ruby+Graham one, is already posted, and it's taking place right after Breaking Bad Habits: Chapter 6.**

**Whatever you do, please enjoy. :-)**

* * *

"You were right. This burger is delicious!" Killian stated after only a few bites.

"Try the mayonnaise," I said.

He removed the top bun from his burger and grabbed his fork. He was just about to add a spoonful of mayo to the beef when I interrupted him.

"Not on the burger, silly. It's fine as it is. Here," I said as I dipped a fry in the drop shaped porcelain bowl next to my plate.

I leaned forward to reach him the fry, but instead of taking it from my fingers, he let me know he wanted me to feed it to him by opening his mouth.

_As you wish_, I thought as he carefully bit the fried potato stick off close enough to my fingers for me to feel his soft lips brush against my skin.

"Verdict?"

"Amazing," he responded, not letting me go with his gaze.

"You don't eat a lot of burgers, do you?"

"I usually have dinner with my clients. Let's just say I need to match the quality of the menu with the size of their wallets."

With that tiny bit of information, I was able to add one and one together. Although he never denied it, it suddenly became almost too obvious; he had not been on a date earlier that Saturday, but on a business dinner.

"Taking them to a fast food restaurant might be worth it though, to see the reaction on their faces. Bet it would be priceless," I smiled cheerfully.

"If a burger is good enough for you, it should be more than good enough for them."

"Should I take that as a compliment?" I asked, a bit confused.

"You should indeed," he said, locking eyes with me for a short moment, before his burger regained his attention.

* * *

"Well, thanks for the company," I said as we'd left the diner.

"It was well worth getting out of bed for," Killian responded.

"Are you referring to me or the burger?"

"You were both exceeding my expectations," he smirked. "I'd really like to do this again sometime soon if you're up for it."

"Was that you asking me out?" I couldn't hide my excitement as the butterflies in my stomach made a forceful comeback.

"I believe it was," he said, taking my right hand in his, looking so deep into my eyes it felt like he was searching for my very soul. "There's something about you, Emma. I don't want to push you away by rushing things. Letting you take the first step was a deliberate move from my side. And now that you have, I want you to think things through carefully. I myself already know my answer to the question, but where do _you_ want this to lead?"

"Killian," I said, swallowing what felt like a rough stone the size of a plum kernel. I wanted to tell him everything about myself, why I wasn't what one would call girlfriend material, I really did. But I wasn't sure how or where to begin.

"We don't have to do this now, love. I'm fine with baby steps if that's what you need. As long as you know I like you, and as long as you can visualize yourself somewhere down the road with me holding your hand."

"Baby steps sounds boring," I joked in an attempt to break the seriousness of the situation.

"Do you like turtles?"

"What's not to like. They're cute, slow but steady, and they wear their homes on their back," I laughed, not understanding why it mattered whether or not I liked shielded reptiles.

"Let's call it turtle steps then." He pressed his palm against mine, our fingers entwining, and pulled me in closer.

I let my cheek rest on Killian's shoulder, where I, when listening carefully, could distinguish the beat of his heart. Its steady and monotone rhythm was hypnotic. He embraced me with his free arm as he pressed his lips against the top of my head and took a deep breath, as though he was trying to inhale every last bit of shampoo scent out of my hair. It felt intimate without necessarily being intimacy in the truest sense of the word. I could feel him underneath of my skin, even though we were both fully dressed. I felt the high I only ever experienced when expecting something more to happen.

"You should get going, get yourself some sleep," he whispered, still not letting go of me. Not that I wanted him to, I could've stayed in that moment and position forever. "I'll follow you home."

"Yeah, about that," I said, breaking loose from his grip. "I kind of don't have a home right now."

He looked at me with an expression that begged me to continue.

"It flooded when I was making a rare attempt at bathing last night." I made a troubled grimace as I finished the sentence.

"So, where did you plan on sleeping? A bench?"

"I'm staying with Ruby, but she's got company tonight, and-"

"Love, you don't have to explain yourself to me. Stay with me for the night. You're already familiar with my bed, after all," he teased.

I hated accepting help when it wasn't really needed.

"I don't know Killian, I could just get a room somewhere. It's not a biggie. Besides, I've got to head downtown anyway to claim my car before it gets transported away."

I pictured my Beetle's windshield all covered in annoying, ridiculously expensive yellow tickets.

"But I thought your car -"

"Yeah, I lied."

"To get to spend more time with me? I'm flattered," he laughed before adding, "I will under no circumstances let you check in to a hotel when you could just as easily, and freely, stay with me. If you're renting a room, so am I. Lead the way, miss Swan."

"Are you for real?" I looked at him with big eyes, blinking both two and three times.

"Why don't you decide for your yourself," he said as he took a firm grip with his hands on the sides of my head, his gloved fingers finding their way through strands of blond hair.

He then planted a soft kiss on the tip of my nose, as to prepare me for what was to come, before he gently pressed his lips against mine. My reaction was delayed by a second, my mind unable to process what was actually happening. When I'd managed to collect my thoughts and make sense out of the situation, I closed my eyes and let Killian sweep away both me and the world surrounding us.

_So much for turtle steps._

The tip of his tongue was tickling my upper lip, which made me smile into his mouth. With that smile, he found an opening and went straight for my own tongue, exploring its sensitive surface. I gave in to him completely, letting him take what he wanted, allowing myself to feel his every movement, moving along with him.

The kiss wasn't eager or desperate, but it was definitely passionate. I let out a quiet, barely audible moan of pleasure as I grasped my fingers around his silky hair and carefully scratched his scalp with my long nails. I could feel goosebumps forming on the skin on the back of his neck.

I didn't know a simple, yet otherworldly, kiss could feel that good.

"I've been wanting to do that since the first time I saw you," Killian said as our lips parted. The hot saliva on my lips turned cold in a matter of seconds in the chilly night.

_Oh, you have no idea what I would like to do with you._ I kept that thought to myself.

He seductively bit down on his lower lip, breathing almost as heavily as I was, although my breath was stuttering; out of surprise, out of shock, out of pleasure.

"So what's it gonna be, lass. My place or a hotel?"

He had won me over completely as I responded, "your bed's quite comfortable if I remember correctly."

"Damn straight it is," he laughed.

My Beetle could wait until Sunday's brunch, or until Monday when my next session with Dr. Hopper was scheduled. At least the tickets aggressively piling up on it were matching the car paint.

* * *

Killian left me alone in his living room as he went to the kitchen to brew us some coffee. I hadn't realized how tired I was until the coffee topic had been brought up. I yawned as I gave myself a tour in the big room, which frankly looked more like the lounge at some exclusive resort with its impressive roof height, huge marble fireplace and bright furnishing.

I hadn't been paying any attention to my surroundings the last time I'd been at Killian's place. Heck, I could barely remember having been there in the first place, a thought that made me flush out of embarrassment. No doubt Killian was a good man though, taking in a blond, drunken mess without intending to do something more with her.

Out of curiosity, I took a closer look at his large, white bookshelf. I guess he didn't read much as it was mostly filled with a variety of clutter; trophies with abbreviations which meanings I couldn't even guess, models of sailboats, decorative seashells, photos of Killian, photos of sailboats, photos of the ocean… a photo of _her_.

"Lass, you want milk or sugar in your coffee?" He called out from the kitchen.

"Black is fine," I shouted back as I took the photo in my hands.

Dark waves of hair framed her face perfectly, and her smile was beautiful. Big, green eyes were staring at me. It felt like they were saying 'stay the hell away from my fiancé', even though I knew that wasn't true. Killian was no one's fiancé anymore, and she couldn't possibly be any more silent. She was _dead_.

I shivered at the thought. His fiancée wasn't around anymore, but I had no idea as for how long she'd been gone. A couple of years perhaps, maybe longer.

"I hope you like percolator coffee," he said, his voice much closer this time. I quickly put the silvery frame back in the shelf.

"So, you sail?" I asked, already knowing the answer to my question, but I wanted Killian to tell me everything I'd found out through his mother's book proposal. It pained me to not be able to talk about it with him.

"Aye, I did," he responded as he handed me a generously sized mug, almost entirely filled up with coffee.

"You did, but you don't anymore?" I asked curiously.

The liquid was still too hot to enjoy, unless one likes blisters on their tongues.

"There's something I want to tell you. Sit down why don't you, love."

He motioned toward the room's centerpiece; a large, white sofa with countless of rectangular, equally white pillows. He parked himself in its middle, signaling me to take the seat to his right. Killian's hair almost looked black compared to our surroundings.

"Do you know anything about sailing?" He asked.

"Not more than that it requires a sailboat," I replied honestly.

"Let's keep it simple, then," he smiled. "I've been sailing since I was a little kid. My mother used to say the ocean was my blood, flowing inside my veins. On a sailboat was the only place I ever really felt free and at peace."

He paused to have a sip of coffee. I decided to let mine cool off a bit longer.

"I began sailing as a sport, entered competitions. At first small, local and national ones, and with the success that followed I advanced to the international championships. Won some trophies along with fame and respect."

"You're quite humble," I said. "For winning international championships."

He chuckled and I looked at him, confused.

"It's the first time anyone's ever called me that," he smirked, his eyes revealing how he was genuinely amused. "There's a first time for everything, I guess."

"If you were that successful, why did you stop?" I asked, eager for him to share the truth with me.

"I was in a car accident. Breaks wouldn't cooperate and I hit the back of a truck in 75 miles per hour. I am lucky to be alive," he said as he removed the thick leather watch from his left wrist which allowed me to see where the prosthesis met his arm. "My hand wasn't as lucky, though."

"Killian. I don't know what to say. I am sorry," I said, unsure what an appropriate reaction to what he'd just told me would be. It wasn't a surprise to me, after all. I'd had time to process the information inside of my head for almost a week, yet it didn't feel real up until that moment.

"I've learned to live with it, it hasn't hindered me the slightest. As I said, I was lucky, and this new hand of mine is a constant reminder of that."

And he claimed no one had ever called him humble before?

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but if your accident didn't hinder you, what did?"

He bit down on his lip and avoided looking at me altogether. He took a deep breath and released it in to a sigh, just as deep. "Do you believe in ghosts, Swan?"

"What?" I blurted. I was prepared to hear him say anything but that.

"Never mind. Let's just say the accident didn't hinder me physically. Mental scars did. Instead of sailing boats, I began selling them, and I soon realized it was a lucrative business. And here I am today," he explained, giving me a smile more fake than wrestling.

Killian wasn't going to tell me more that night, that much I was sure of. I couldn't blame him though; he had told me more about himself during those fifteen minutes than he had throughout the entire week, and I, if anyone, understood the phrase 'sensitive subject'.

"Oh wow, it's six AM," I said as I watched him put his wristwatch back on.

"You tired, love?" He asked, and I was finally able to recognize him again.

"Very," I responded truthfully.

"Let's get ourselves to bed then, shall we."

He rose, took the mug from me and placed it on the coffee table before taking my hand in his, leading me to his bedroom.

A one week younger version of myself would've had other stuff than sleep on her mind, but in that moment, I was perfectly content with just that. Besides, sleep would have been impossible if it wasn't for how safe and calm Killian's arm around my waist, along with his face buried in deep my neck, made me feel.

He kept planting small, soft kisses on my neck and shoulders until everything went black.

_Turtle steps._

* * *

I wondered how much longer the autumn sun would bestow us with actual warmth as I sat at the outdoor serving, waiting for Ruby and Mary Margaret to show up. For once, I wasn't the last one to arrive for Sunday's brunch.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret waved at me as she approached. "We missed you last night."

She took a shortcut by stepping over the white wooden fencing surrounding the café and took a seating on the opposite side of the table.

"Before you say anything else; I am sorry for my no-show."

"Where were you though?" A worrisome expression spread across her face.

"With Killian," I smiled.

"No way!" The voice of Ruby exclaimed behind me before she entered my field of vision and sat down next to Mary Margaret. "You've got to tell us _everything_!"

"Hello to you too, Ruby," Mary Margaret laughed.

"Why don't you go first," I winked at her. I was dying to hear if my assumptions about her and Graham had been correct.

"Graham and I went home to my place and uncorked a bottle. We talked, laughed… friend stuff, you know. I owned him at Mario Cart."

The corners of her mouth were defying gravity as she spoke, and I could tell from the sparkle in her eyes that more than 'friend stuff' had occurred.

"And then?" Mary Margaret asked, her head tilted.

"Let's just say I'm surprised we woke up before noon," Ruby giggled.

"Sounds like you enjoyed yourself, _doll_," I teased her.

"You have no idea," she smirked. "We're going on an actual date next week. I couldn't possibly be any more excited."

"Aw Ruby, you're glowing! We're so happy for you!" Mary Margaret said and placed her hand on Ruby's shoulder.

"Now, tell us everything about _your_ night, Emma," Ruby said as four eyes turned their focus toward me.

"Well… We talked."

"Oh, and here I thought you were both mute," Mary Margaret teased.

"He kissed me," I added and I could see how their faces lit up. "I followed him home, we talked some more, and then we went to bed. And that's about it. Not nearly as exciting as Ruby's night."

"He didn't even _try _anything?" Ruby asked, surprised.

"We've agreed on taking things slow. That's what we both need, I believe," I told them.

"But you are taking things somewhere at least," Mary Margaret stated.

"I think we are."

I couldn't contain my happiness as I uttered those four little words. I hadn't felt like this for a long time; I hadn't felt anything for almost as long. I had been hiding behind casual relationships and one night stands to feed my numbness, to avoid getting hurt, and most importantly to not have to open myself up. This time, it was different. I wanted to open myself up, I wanted to be honest, and I wanted anything and everything Killian had to offer me. I wanted to allow myself love, and I could literally feel how that door had been unlocked. I wanted to become a better version of myself.

I was aware it was going to be a somewhat bumpy ride, but I was willing to be honest with Killian to make this _thing_ work, and I believed he felt the same way.

* * *

**Like/dislike? Will Killian be able to help Emma get back on track again, and will Emma be able to help Killian let go of his "ghosts"? Are their definition of 'turtle steps' somewhat different from what someone else's would be?**

**All reviews are highly appreciated! :-)**

**Also, don't forget to check out _The_****_ Things You Do_ if you enjoy steamy stuff. **


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm sorry last week's updates got delayed, I've had to deal with some real life shiz which couldn't wait. I hope you're not too mad with me, and that you'll enjoy this chappie.**

**Don't forget to check out _The Things You Do_ as well, if you haven't done so already. Its first chapter stands in direct correlation to this fic.**

* * *

"Emma, a word please."

I barely had time to boot up my desktop before Jefferson invaded my forty-five square feet cubical.

"Sure," I responded, quietly praying his words would have nothing to do with last Friday evening.

"I need you to understand that I am you boss."

I looked up from my desk with a quizzical expression on my face. "Why, of course you are?"

"Outside of working hours, however, I am not. Whatever I do with my spare time is a decision made by private Jefferson, and it has no correlation to decisions made by boss Jefferson."

He was looking resolute, as if he'd been practicing his speech inside of his head for days. Perhaps he had.

"I am aware of that," I responded, unsure where this conversation was headed.

"Good, because the second you start questioning boss Jefferson, difficulties will arise. It's entirely up to you if you don't want anything to do with me on your free time, but while inside these walls," he gesticulated with his arms, "my wish is your command."

I had obviously hurt his ego pretty bad.

"I wouldn't ever question you, unless-"

"Unless what, Emma?" He interrupted me.

"Unless it happens again. Look, I'm willing to forget all about it and move forward. Are you?"

"You're already questioning me!" He exclaimed. Something dark sparked inside his otherwise so bright eyes. I felt them burn upon my skin. Knowing my boss was looking at me in _that_ way made me feel everything but comfortable.

"Please," I sighed. "The question wasn't directed toward boss Jefferson."

"But boss Jefferson is the one you're working for. I hope we're clear on that from now on."

How was he able to make me feel guilty, when he was the one who'd clearly overstepped? No matter how much I wanted to, I decided not to fight back. It wasn't worth it. Besides, I liked Jefferson as my boss, and I wanted the awkwardness to go away as quickly as possible, if it was at all possible.

"We're clear," I added in a neutral tone.

"Good. Oh, and Emma, no pets in the office. You should know that by now."

Pets? I didn't even own any pet.

Before I had the time to ask, Jefferson turned his back on me and disappeared into his office, closing the door behind him anything but gently.

"Perfect," I muttered.

I had to make things right later, but before doing so, I had a whole bunch of emails to go through. My inbox was always overflowing on Monday mornings and I wondered why people spent so much of their valuable weekend hours working, when they didn't need to.

"Emma Swan?" A guy with a dark blue polo shirt was now stood exactly where Jefferson had been standing just a moment earlier.

"That's me," I responded, confused.

"We have a delivery for you. Sign this please," he said as he handed me a paper along with a pen.

I stared at letters 'FedEx' on the top of the paper before placing my signature on its bottom. A second later, another blue shirted guy with a cap appeared behind the cubicle corner, with a water filled glass box in his hands. I scratched my head out of confusion.

When he placed it on top of my black desk, I realized it wasn't just a glass box filled with water. It was a terrarium, and inside it was one tiny, black turtle bobbing around in the small waves that had been caused by moving his home around.

The FedEx guy with the cap placed a white envelope on the roof of the terrarium.

"That's all, I believe. Have a good day, miss Swan," the other guy said before they left me alone with my received delivery.

I didn't have to open the envelope to know whom had sent me the gift; yet I couldn't wait a second to read what the letter inside it actually said.

_Emma,_

_Say hello to your new roommate._

_His name is Steps, and I trust you'll be able to take good care of him, without flooding your apartment. If not, you and Steps are both more than welcome to stay with me when you have to or need to, or simply just want to._

_Love,__  
__Killian_

"Why, hello there Steps," I giggled as I followed the turtle around with my index finger on the glass. "Pleasure to meet you, little fella."

Was I just talking to a turtle?

"I'm Emma, and you're gonna stay with me from now on. We'll get along just fine, won't we? And you're going to absolutely love Ruby."

I guess I was.

* * *

"What did I say about keeping pets in the office?" Jefferson dropped by my cubical just as I was about to head for lunch.

To my surprise. he didn't sound at all mad, which felt like a big relief. I remembered previous temper tantrums Jefferson had had with other employees, and imagined how angry he would've been at me right now if he hadn't liked me.

"I'll bring Steps with me in the evening, don't worry. Nothing much I can do about it right now, though," I replied.

"Steps?" He laughed.

"Well, yeah. That's his name," I smiled politely.

"If you say so, Emma", he said with an amused expression while running his fingers through his brown hair. "Care to join me for lunch?"

_Oh no._ I wouldn't have hesitated if he'd asked four days earlier, but his intentions were difficult to read, to put it mildly.

"Strictly business, of course," he added.

I considered my options for a moment, but decided to trust he wouldn't try anything this time around. I _had_ to trust him if this was going to work, and I didn't want to hurt his ego any more than I already had.

"Sure, give me a minute."

I retied my boots before grabbing my jacket and my purse. I threw a glance at the tiny turtle resting on his platform and a warm feeling spread through my body. I smiled widely.

* * *

"I'm expecting a potential client to drop by the office tomorrow. I'm sure you'll know who he is, but I can't stress enough how important this possible deal with him is to the company," Jefferson said between his chews, unaware of the breadcrumbs on the unbuttoned collar of his black shirt.

I was all ears, waiting for him to continue while I was enjoying my meal. I finally got to still my cravings for garlic with the chicken aoili sandwich in my hands.

"It'll mean a huge boost to our sale figures as well as our reputation if we manage to seal a deal with him, and I trust you to do it." I paused my chewing and looked up at him as he added, "without my help."

I swallowed the food in my mouth so hastily my throat hurt. "Wait, what. Me? Why?"

"I want you to know that I trust you, and that you can trust me," he smiled at me.

"What's the catch?" I asked suspiciously as I put my sandwich back down on the plate.

"There is no catch, Emma. Either you manage, or you don't. Your position at the office isn't being threatened by anyone else, but you'll have another promotion to look forward to within a near future if you seal this deal. What do you say?"

I did not at all know what to say. A couple of hours ago, Jefferson had been anything but happy with me, and now he was giving me huge responsibilities along with a possible promotion. I supposed he was feeling guilty, after all.

"What exactly is this promotion we're talking about here?" I eyed him carefully.

"You told me you wanted to become an editor. The job is up for grabs. The question is, will you reach out for it, or should I consider someone else?" He said as he brought the last bite of his sandwich to his mouth.

Damn straight I would reach out for it.

"Wow. No. I mean yes. Of course."

"Well then, the job is yours. Don't disappoint me, Emma," he said with a serious expression on his face.

I hastily rose and pushed my chair back in under the plastic table.

"You done?" He looked at me, then at my plate, then back at me.

I hadn't eaten even half of my lunch, but I was too excited, too nervous, to finish it.

"I believe I've got work to do," I smiled.

"That's the spirit," he said as he returned my smile and accompanied me back to the office.

* * *

"Thanks for taking the time to see me," I said as I once again sat down in that green leather chair.

I sighed heavily as I realized I still hadn't gotten around to fix my nails. Was my brain really that preoccupied?

"Your request to see me so soon after your last session surprised me, miss Swan. I take it you have your reasons though. If you would share them with me, please," Dr. Hopper requested as he adjusted his reddish glasses.

"I've met someone," I replied almost instantly.

There was no point in dragging it out, for several reasons. The first being how these sessions with Dr. Hopper put a strain on my already suffering wallet - he wasn't exactly cheap. The second reason was his ability to always make me spill as good as everything sooner or later anyway.

I could tell Dr. Hopper was surprised by my confession as he unwittingly raised his eyebrows while waiting for me to continue.

"I really like this person, but the timing is quite shitty, and… and I guess I'm afraid," I sighed.

"Believe me when I say these kind of things have got no sense for space and time. Actually, they tend to show up when you the least expect them. I'm happy for you, though."

Did I hear excitement in his voice? To be honest, I didn't think the day I admitted to like someone aside from my friends would come so soon, and I guess he thought so even less than I did.

"You say you are afraid. Am I correct in assuming you're feeling that way for more than one reason?" He asked, his hand frenetically moving along the lines of his notepad.

I was afraid of myself, of love, of trust, of pain… To list all the things I found frightening would probably take a longer time than we had on our hands, so I kept it short.

"I'm afraid of what will happen when he learns about my past."

The more I told Dr. Hopper, the faster his pen worked its tip against the white pages. I wished I could see what he actually wrote, mostly out of curiosity, but he always kept the notes in an angle that didn't allow for sneak peeks.

"That means you intend to tell him, and that's good," he said after a moment of silence.

"The sooner the better," I added before he had the chance.

He nodded, a wry smile on his lips. "Imagine you're telling him. What's the worst thing that could happen?"

"That he wouldn't be able to look at me the same way anymore," I replied after careful consideration.

"And what way is that?" He asked.

"He's treating me like an actual person, like someone who's lovable."

He looked up at me from his notes. "I don't think I have to remind you that you are a lovable person. One isn't their actions, Emma. If he sees you for who you are now, what makes you believe he'll change his mind?"

"Anyone would. And they should," I added.

"Your demeaning thoughts are the reason behind your destructive behavior, Swan."

_Oh believe me, I know._

"You need to learn to love yourself to be able to let someone else love you."

I did like myself, but love was a very strong word in my dictionary. I had a logical, and perhaps cynical, approach toward love, and saw it as something that only appears between two people as a result of mutual respect, complete trust, and unbreakable bonds. I believed love at first sight was something made up by the pop cultural industry so that they would sell more books and movie tickets.

"I think it's time for some assignments," Dr. Hopper suddenly stated.

"Like homework?" I asked skeptically.

"If that's the word you prefer," he smiled. "As dark thoughts arise, grab pen and paper and write down your assets and your strengths. Only focus on the positive aspects, and try to push the negative ones away while doing so. It'll be anything but easy, but the most important thing to keep in mind is the need to be honest with yourself."

"Nothing harder? I can do that," I responded, self-assured.

Dr. Hopper rose and approached his mahogany desk to grab a second pen out of its top drawer. He then ripped an empty paper out of his notepad and handed it to me, along with the pen.

"Give it a go right away," he prompted.

I glared at the empty paper in my hands and soon realized filling it with positive adjectives was more difficult than he'd made it sound. I couldn't leave with an empty paper though, could I? I decided to at least try.

Was stubborn a good quality? It could be, but it could also be to a disadvantage if not knowing the right time and place for it. I did know when being stubborn paid off, but I also knew when to surrender. At least most of the times.

Smart. I was definitely smart. Perhaps not in the words truest sense, math and science had been my worst subjects at school, but I was logical, shrewd and had quite the amount of life experience considering my age.

I also decided to write down 'independent', 'selfless' and 'witty' before handing my paper to Dr. Hopper.

He studied it carefully, reading what I'd come up with several times. "It's a good start, Emma," he smiled, "but I want you to have doubled the list until next time."

* * *

"I wish I could say the turtle is cute, Emma. At least the gesture was," Ruby said while staring at my new pet from a safe distance.

"You're looking at him like he'd escape his terrarium and bite your fingers off," I stated.

"Perhaps he will."

She was being one hundred percent serious. She was honestly afraid of little Steps.

I laughed.

"Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to do so, Ruby. He's the size of a matchbox, and I'm quite certain he's got no teeth."

"How fast do they grow?" She asked warily.

I had never before seen her this way; she was usually anything but scared, the kind of person who's afraid of nothing, including stuff generally considered as dangerous.

"I wish I was a turtle expert," I responded, unable to stop smiling at her.

"I too wish you were," she added.

Ruby approached the kitchenette to rid its sink of since two days neglected dishes. I followed in her footsteps to, with Steps in mind, check what the fridge had to offer. I reminded myself I needed to ask Killian what an optimal turtle diet consisted of, but iceberg lettuce had to suffice for the evening.

"Thanks for doing this," I told her as she finished washing the last saucepan.

"Doing what?" She asked, seemingly confused.

"Letting me, us, stay with you. I really appreciate it," I responded with sincerity. "And I should be the one doing the dishes."

"Don't worry about the dishes. I quite enjoy doing them; it's tranquil, helps me clear my mind. As for letting the reptile inside these walls - it's something I'd only ever do out of love," she smiled.

"I could always drop him off at Killian's. He's the one responsible for the situation anyway," I laughed.

"It's fine, Emma, really. I'll live as long as you keep Steps inside his cage," she said while gesturing toward the terrarium standing close to the edge of her TV unit.

"I wish I could leave him at the office until my apartment is sorted, but Jefferson made our no pet policy quite clear earlier. He's had the worst mood swings today," I sighed before letting Ruby in on the details of my possible promotion. "I think he's testing me."

"Of course he is testing you. He needs to know if you can manage what he wants you to be able to manage, Emma. Promotions rarely come for free, you know."

"I have a hunch it's about more than just whether or not I can manage," I responded.

"Because of what happened last week I assume." It wasn't formulated as a question, she knew what it was all about.

Throughout the day I had repeatedly been telling myself to trust in Jefferson's motives and intentions, but I slowly began to regret my decision to accept his offer. Trust had never been my thing, but up until that Friday, I _had_ been trusting him. He'd earned my trust. I visualized Jefferson receiving a medal for his achievement on losing all of it in less than twenty minutes.

"He says there's no catch, but my instincts keep telling me there is. Why else would he give me this opportunity only a couple of days after I stormed out on him, not exactly on good terms? He's hiding something from me, I just wish there was a way to find out what."

"Perhaps you don't trust him, and I don't blame you for it, but you need to trust in yourself, hun. Just make sure to get that client onboard and there'll be nothing for him to remark upon. If I can be a hundred percent certain you'll be fine, then so should you."

Ruby was right, and her words brought back some of my confidence. I was going to give it my everything, but not because I wanted to make Jefferson satisfied. I was going to do it for myself. If I'd manage, it would serve as a nice boost to my ego, and I would be able to add some more positive adjectives to Dr. Hopper's list.

* * *

**Thank you for your follows, favorites and reviews, dearies. They make my heart smile!**

**Miss Killian? There'll be plenty of him in the next chapter, which I'll post as scheduled on Thursday, so stay tuned! :-)**


	9. Chapter 9

**I present to you: Chapter 9, and right on schedule, too.**

**Jefferson can't be up to any good, can he? And who's the mysterious client Emma's been assigned to?**

**Enjoy! :-)**

* * *

I was preparing myself mentally the best I could for my first meeting with the mysterious client Jefferson had assigned to me. I'd received little to no information about the client other than his name. Jefferson had said he was sure I knew who this Charles Hammond was, but I honestly had no idea. Unfortunately, neither did Google.

It felt like I was out on deep waters as I had nothing to grasp on to. I liked having absolute control, and having it all ripped away from me made my brain feel like a tangled ball of yarn. I had no clue as to what end to start untangle the mess. It was all a part of the test, I assumed, as Jefferson clearly knew stuff he simply did not want to share with me.

Jefferson himself had spent the morning being awfully quiet, only throwing me the occasional smirk here and there. He seemed confident and content in his decision to hand me the responsibility and put me in charge of it all. I wasn't sure as to why, apart from his speech about the importance of trust. He wanted me to trust him, but how could I possibly do that when he was as secretive as a locked drawer, taunting me with its unknown contents.

He gave me a wide smile as he dropped by my cubicle on his way back from breakfast.

"Good luck now, Emma. Not that I think you won't do just fine without it," he paused and placed a steady hand on my left shoulder. "Luck that is," he added.

The smile on his lips didn't fade the slightest, and his cheeriness did nothing but annoy me.

"Thanks," I murmured, my attention directed toward the digital numbers on the bottom right hand side of my computer screen.

I had nine minutes to gather my things, along with some coffee, and relocate to the room where the meeting would be held; a room that would be transformed into my very own office if things evolved according to plans. It wasn't huge, but it was a major upgrade from my cubical, and it had room for more than just a desk and a chair. I pictured how I would decorate it inside of my head as I rushed through the corridors.

Panorama windows on the opposite wall of the door were letting in the bright of the morning, almost blinding me for a second as I entered. By the windows was a generously sized desk with an office chair, large enough to be fitting a CEO, faced toward the room's entrance.

The other half of the room was occupied by an ellipse shaped wooden table, surrounded by two three seater black leather sofas and a matching armchair. Along the sides of the room were shelves reaching all the way up the ceiling, in the same bright birch material as the table, holding the more successful titles the company had published throughout the years.

I parked myself in one of the sofas and placed my things on the table in front of me. I could definitely see myself working from in there within a near future. I wasn't the typical material girl, but imagining my name, along with the word 'editor', on the door made me excited enough to barely notice the person entering through the door I'd left ajar.

"Swan?" A man's voice said. I knew that voice from somewhere, but it took my brain a couple of seconds to realize why and from where.

"Killian? What are you doing here?" I asked surprised, my eyes as big as plates.

"I'm here to see you, I suppose," he replied, one eyebrow raised.

My heart skipped a beat and I had to remind myself to breathe. He was looking devilishly handsome in a dark gray close-fitted jacket and sand colored linen trousers. Any other moment and I'd literally have thrown myself around his neck.

"Now is not a good time," I sighed and rose. "I'm awaiting a client, but I'll be done within an hour or so."

Killian scratched his head before I added, "want to grab some lunch by then?" I didn't want him to perceive me as short or cold, but his presence made me more nervous than I'd been all morning. Nervous and stressed.

"Emma, love. I got directed here by the receptionist. I'm here to see you."

Damn it. The receptionist knew I'd be busy the entire morning, yet she sent him in?

"You're cute when you're nervous," he smirked as I approached him.

I couldn't help but smile.

"I promise I'll make up for it later, but you can't be here right now."

"And you're cute when you're confused."

"Sorry to break it to you, but I'm not confused. And you always think I'm cute."

"You've no idea." The way he was looking at me made my cheeks heat.

He bit down on his lip and I had to mentally pour a bucket of ice cold water over myself to not give in to my impulses to jump him right on the spot.

I threw a glance at the clock above the door. Three minutes past ten. The client would arrive any second now. _Stop being so annoyingly charming and leave already, Killian! _What was I supposed to do, tell him to get the fuck out?

I placed my hand on the small of his back, ready to guide him through the door, as he began to laugh.

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" I looked at him impatiently.

He took a step back and offered me his hand. "Charles Hammond. It's a pleasure to meet you, miss Swan."

_Are you shitting me?_ The situation went from being awkward to outright embarrassing within half a second. I couldn't find any suitable words, yet my mouth was wide open.

"Believe me, I'm as baffled as you are. I thought you said you were working as your boss's assistant," he laughed.

It wasn't a laugh of discomfort, but rather an amused one. How could he not be uncomfortable, when I felt like sinking through the floor?

"I, uh… I am. He wanted me to take on this client -," I corrected myself, "_you_, for whatever reason. I accepted as he tempted me with a permanent promotion."

"Well then. Can't seal any deal standing in the doorway though, love. Are you going to invite me in or what?"

"I'm sorry, of course," I said and motioned toward the leather sofas.

Killian sat down and crossed his legs casually. I swallowed loudly as I watched him eye me up and down, and up again. His eyes locked on mine as I took a seating in the armchair.

"I hope you liked my gift."

"Clever to name the turtle Steps," I responded.

"You can thank me later I suppose," he smiled at me as I nervously skimmed through the forms I needed to document the meeting.

"All right, let's get on to the business then, shall we? I take it you want to go by Mr. Hammond in the paperwork?" I asked.

"Aye. I've got my reasons for it," he replied.

Reasons I was dying to know, but I was confident he'd tell me eventually. At least that's what I wanted to believe.

"Tell me a bit about yourself." It felt weird asking, but that's how Jefferson always started meetings with new clients, and the background of the author was of uttermost importance, for various reasons.

"Well Swan, what do you want to know?" He smirked.

"Start with the basics," I replied, trying my best to act professional.

"I grew up in a seaside town of Ireland as the only child. Regular kids activities, like bicycling or playing soccer, didn't appeal to me. Instead I discovered my passion for the sea as I accompanied my father on his boat. He began teaching me everything I needed to know about sailboats and sailing, and at a very young age I entered my first sailing competition."

He cleared his throat.

"Want something to drink?" I asked.

"Water's fine," he responded as he rose and approached the water cooler.

Normally, I would've insisted on serving the client, but I was still experiencing awkwardness enough for an entire month. Besides, Killian was a man who fended for himself. We had that in common, him and I.

"Where was I?" He asked as he once again sat down, this time in the seat closest to the armchair, closest to _me_, his elbow on the armrest.

"First competition," I reminded him.

"Oh, yeah, right. So, I won, and got a taste for it and continued competing. A couple of years later, my family left Europe as my father wanted to give me my best chance, and that wasn't in Ireland. All the prestigious championships were held here."

I gave him an encouraging nod to continue his story.

"The trophies began piling up, and as my father got sick, I found even more motivation to continue my winning streak, to make him proud. At the age of nineteen, I won the world championship equivalent when it comes to sailing, only a couple of days before my father passed."

Killian got quiet and it looked like he was reliving the memories as he spoke about them.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said honestly. His mother never mentioned that part.

"It's a long time ago now, but talking about it still has this effect on me." He looked straight at me. "Anyway, my mother took over the role as my manager, and she kept pushing me toward one victory after another. Then was the car accident, which you already know of."

He paused to look at me sharply for a short moment that felt like an eternity, before he added, "tell me, Swan, and tell me honestly. You know the rest of the story too, don't you?"

He couldn't possibly know I _knew_, could he? I didn't want to lie to him, but his mother's story was still confidential information.

"You quit sailing," I said in an attempt to rescue myself out of his trap.

"And why did I do that?" Something serious spread across his face.

"Because of the car accident," I mumbled, barely audible.

"Look. I know my mother's been here, and I'm not stupid, Emma. Are you gonna keep lying to me, or should we try being honest with each other?"

His words felt like a punch in the stomach. He wanted me to be honest, but he'd left out substantial details himself. I had to remind myself I was working, and had to treat Killian with the same respect I'd treat any client. Not because I wanted to be able to sign contracts with him, but because of work ethics. I'd have to save any issues of a more personal nature for later.

"She's been here," I responded. That much I could say without getting myself into any trouble.

"When were you planning on telling me?" He sounded upset, and I guess he had all rights to be.

I squirmed nervously. "I'm not allowed to talk about projects in development with anyone outside the company. I'm not allowed to talk about it with most people at the company either for that matter." I closed my eyes for a brief moment, praying he would understand, before I let out a heavy sigh.

Killian eyed me for a good moment, and I was unable to tell if he'd accepted my excuse or not.

He finally broke the silence. "I need you to know that whatever my mother told you isn't the entire truth. There's more to it, and I can't have her release this story, _my_ story, without at least having had the chance to tell it myself. Will you help me or not?"

If whatever he had to say was important enough for him to ask for my help, I wasn't going to be the one turning him down. I was no longer doing this for Jefferson, for that promotion, to feel good about myself or to be able to add shiny, new adjectives to Dr. Hoppers list, but I was doing it for Killian.

I laughed. It was a badly timed laugh, but the way this man had somehow managed to enter my life like a raging tornado was quite amusing. In fact, it made no sense. A little more than a week ago, I wasn't even aware of Killian's existence, and now he had invaded my life on more than one level. I had to remind myself I wasn't just asleep, having a weird dream. I mentally pinched my arm.

"My boss really wants this story, you know. Taking a business approach on it, so do I."

"But?" He asked.

"As someone who cares about you, are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this? It seems to me it might complicate your relationship with your mother," I said truthfully.

"You care about me?" He smirked.

"Stick to the topic," I said, unwittingly returning his smirk. The effect he had on me was almost comical.

"Emily's done a great job complicating our relationship on her own accord, that much I can assure you."

"If you say so," I said as I went through the papers on the table, manually adding a clause to the contract. "You'll have to sign these… Charles. Take your time to carefully read through them though, I don't want you to have to have any regrets."

"I never regret anything, Swan," he winked.

* * *

"You've got quite some explaining to do," I exclaimed as I stormed Jefferson's office. I didn't bother to close the door behind me; I didn't care if the entire floor heard our conversation.

I could only guess why he had wanted me to take on Killian out of all the clients our company had. The only explanation that made any sense was that he was trying to get back at me for Friday evening, that he had added one and one together as he followed me to the elevators to explain himself and saw me with Killian. He remembered me listening in on the meeting with Emily, realizing that the things I already knew would put a strain on mine and Killian's relationship as I wasn't allowed to talk about it. Not with anyone. It all made me furious.

"Please, have a seat," Jefferson said as he motioned toward the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

"The hell I won't," I hissed.

"What's the matter, Emma? Don't tell me you didn't get along with _Mr. Hammond_?" He kept his calm and held on to that annoying smirk he'd had all day.

"Why did you do it?" I asked with my voice lowered, ignoring Jefferson's self-righteous questions.

"My apologies if you didn't enjoy my surprise. I was certain you would. Oh well, silly me," he rolled his eyes at me.

"You really do want this deal though, don't you?" I lowered my eyebrows.

"I don't think I need to explain why I want to publish both versions of the story. Just imagine how the headlines would affect the sale figures; famous athlete writes a tell-all biography to get back at his mother, a mother who also happened to write a tell-all on her son's life - who's telling the truth?"

"Then give me one good reason to not shred these papers into a million pieces." I leaned over his desk and held the contract inches from his nose.

"Well, go ahead with it if that's what you want. For some reason I doubt you do."

"And what do you know?"

"I know destroying those papers would hurt your dear boyfriend's feelings. And we don't want that now, do we?" His narrowed eyes locked on mine.

"The only one with hurt feelings here are you, Jefferson. After your speech about the importance of me knowing the difference between your private and professional selves, and you aren't even able to distinguish them yourself? Pathetic," I growled.

"Watch your tone, young lady," he glared at me.

"Or what? You're going to fire me?" The thought made me laugh.

"Perhaps I will. Now, if you'll excuse-"

"Oh no, you won't." I interrupted him. "I think you're severely underestimating me."

He tilted his head. "Do enlighten me, dear."

"You see, I added a little extra spice to the contract. It specifically says I, and I alone, am the only person allowed to publish 'Mr. Hammond's' novel. Fire me and you might as well tear the papers yourself."

If he wanted to play dirty, then dirty he'd get. It wasn't that I badly wanted to keep my job, but I wanted to make sure Killian was treated fair and square. After I'd seen to that, I couldn't care less if I got to keep my job or not. Jefferson had proven himself to be a poisonous snake, and I wasn't the person who'd let others run me over.

"Clever girl," he smirked at me. "I guess I won't mind keeping you around for a bit longer if it's going to be this entertaining."

His words made me feel anything but comfortable. He was enjoying all of this, that much I was sure of.

* * *

**All the anger! Emma's (with all rights) mad, Jefferson's obviously mad, expressing it in his own ways... I guess the only one who's not mad at the moment is Killian, unless being mad at his mother for reasons yet to be revealed counts.**

**Chapter 10, which I'll be posting on Sunday like promised, will be quite amusing, I assure you.**

**Please do share your thoughts by leaving a review below, lovelies. :-)**


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